


I Shall Endure Book 3:  A Song in the Stillness

by Melysande



Series: I SHALL ENDURE [5]
Category: Dragon Age Awakening, Dragon Age Books and Comics, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 98,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melysande/pseuds/Melysande
Summary: Thedas after the Blight. Old rivalries, threats and dangers resurface in Ferelden, the Marches, Nevarra and Orlais. Lys and Alistair, separated and believing the other dead, hide from Tevinters, Orlesians and their friends and family, who struggle to rebuild Ferelden.  Still, brief moments of joy surface as the story tracks them through the years before the explosion in Haven.





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Brief Hiatus for Real Life & Plot reasons. Back soon.   
> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™.  
> SPOILERS: I incorporate events from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**  

_In the long hours of the night_  
_When hope has abandoned me_  
_I shall see the stars and know  
_ _Your light remains_

_I have heard the sound_  
_A song in the stillness  
_ _The echo of your voice_ _…._

**Trials 1:  Hymns**

**Chapter 1:  Escape**

**9:31 Dragon, Kingsway  ===  The Orphanage**

Lys did not see Maric again, after that one visit on the morning after her marriage, at least not when Maric was conscious.  Once, Thomas took her to see the former king lying in the sun, outside the cave beneath the Keep’s walls.  Maric had been barbered, bathed and, she assumed, bled, and now he lay on the hard stone ledge in only his braies.  After a few crude remarks, Thomas took her back to her room.  That happened in summer, soon after Reina announced Lys’ pregnancy, but now, the wind off the Amaranthine Ocean announced the approach of winter. 

Below her, anchored just offshore, the _Wyvern_ waited for cargo and passengers.  Thomas and Nicephorus had decided to leave, although they continued to argue over their destination.  Thomas had said nothing to her, but both Kai and Reina gleaned information where they could.  Nicephorus had come to trust Reina, as much as he trusted anyone, and Kai, keeping her head down, exploited the invisibility being an elven servant afforded.  Lys did wonder how Reina kept Nicephorus’ favor, but chose to trust her and not to ask questions.  Reina kept her promise to ensure Lys’ safety and health and asked no reward; that was enough for Lys.

Rubbing her expanding belly, Lys wondered if she cared where they went.  Wycomb or Minrathous, Bastien or Vyrantium, what did it matter when she would be a prisoner wherever they landed?  Kai pointed out that in a Marcher City they had a better chance of escape, but Lys doubted Thomas would keep Kai with her or, if he did, that either of them would ever see the outside of a nicely appointed cell.   She sometimes laughed bitterly at the irony.  Rendon Howe’s attack on Castle Cousland had released her from an Orlesian marriage and captivity in Lydes; now his son kept her in similar captivity in Ferelden. 

Growing up, her perspective had been clouded by family and friends with good marriages, marriages based on love or friendship, and her belief that Maric would acknowledge Alistair.  Her more recent experiences had cleared away that fog.  Her value lay in her womb and her blood.  In the end, despite the differences in their behaviors, both Denis and Thom only wanted children, preferably sons, to further their own dynastic goals.  They valued their animals, who had uses beyond breeding, more than they valued her.  She had resigned herself to captivity in Orlais; she could resign herself to captivity with Thomas.  She only regretted Kai had not eluded capture this time.  While she saw no way of escaping the fort that was the Orphanage, like Kai, she had some hope that opportunities would arise once they left.   

She thought back to her last view of King Maric.  He had looked healthy enough, not overly thin or pale.  Any escape must include him.  She wondered if he had continued the strengthening exercises she had taught him.   She also wondered why there had been no further visits.  _Had she not been believably annoyed and disgusted or angry enough at Thomas for making her visit Maric that first time?_   She wondered if she would see the former king aboard ship, or if they would all be locked into their cabins.  After five months of unrelieved routine, even wondering and uncertainty seem stimulating.

Below the keep, the ship rocked at anchor as a ladder dropped to allow the sailors in the shallop to tie up alongside and climb aboard.  Soon a hoist began to lift chests of varying sizes onto the deck.  Though she could hear voices, she could not make out the words being shouted from the shore below her.  Lys tried to lean across the crenellations to see the shingle beach by the cave, but couldn’t maneuver her body to lean out far enough and the small tower housing the stairway entrance blocked the direct view. 

She sat in a crenel, facing inward, the wind against her back, wondering how she would feel about this baby when she first held it, or if she would even be allowed to feel anything. Would he let her keep it to breastfeed or take it to a wet nurse and deprive her of ever knowing her child?  At first Thomas, happy that his seed had taken root, had enjoyed fondling her larger breasts, but by Solace her growing belly had disgusted him, or so he said, and he left her alone to seek companionship elsewhere.  The indifference she welcomed would end once the babe came. 

The human women from the barracks visited the Hall on most nights, entertaining Thomas and his guard officers.  Kai reported that, much to Nicephorus’ dismay, Thomas had resumed his drinking and gaming.  The servants, all young, elven woman safe from human attack, provided Kai with daily reports.  Another irony.  The Orphanage, despite the horrors of forced pregnancy and slaving, provided, for elven woman, a safe haven from rape by humans.  The last man to attempt to take an elven woman had been hung over the battlements and left to die.  Tevinter wanted elves, not half-bloods, and the guards knew the rules.  Essentially invisible, the elves provided Kai and Reina with reports from every quarter of the small fort.

Reina kept Lys supplied with wool for spinning and, secretly, because Thomas would consider them a weapon, knitting needles, with which she made blankets with some of the spun yarn.  The elves had looms and turned the rest of her yarn into lengths of cloth, which she sewed into baby gowns.  Reina’s suggestion that she be permitted to weave met with a firm no from the Tevinter, as it would require that she leave the keep and visit the elves’ dormitory.  A loom would not fit into her small bedroom.  At least spinning and knitting kept her busy.

A sudden clamor in the courtyard ended her reverie and she moved to the other side of the keep’s roof to investigate.  A line of elves, bound together at the ankles, filed out of their dormitory.  Men and women carrying toddlers or babes all shuffled towards the stairway to the cave.  It seemed Thomas and Nicephorus would leave soon, even if they had no destination.  She turned, as the door to the stairway opened behind her.

“They’re moving us all onto the ship, as you can see,” Reina said.  “Easier to guard.  There’s trouble in the caves and most of the guard are needed there, so the ship’s crew will ensure we don’t escape.”

“Escape to where?  And what kind of trouble?” Mel asked.

“Thomas gets more paranoid after every argument with Nicephorus.  He seems to think his brother will arrive with an army before they can load the ship and sail away.  As for the trouble, some kind of creatures live deep in the cave, but have only rarely attacked, according to Nicephorus. That’s changed lately.  Today, Captain Ranulf has joined them on their foray into the cave, along with some of his crew, to let the guards fight the creatures, while the ship’s crew brings out the chests.  The remaining crew will see us settled aboard the ship.  I’ve convinced them you need fresh air and shouldn’t be locked in your cabin.  I’m your keeper.”

“What about Kai?”  Lys folded her arms across her stomach, clutching her cloak around her torso. 

“She’ll be with us,” Reina said gently, watching the young woman relax.  “I informed Nicephorus I would watch you, but that I wasn’t a servant.”  She chuckled.  “He responds well to arrogance.”

Rewarding Reina’s quip with a tight smile, Lys followed the mage down the stairs to her room, where she found Kai already packing their meager belongings.  Lys began rolling up the thin mattresses, securing them with rope and folding bed linens and blankets.

Seeing Kai’s questioning glance, she snapped.  “What?  You don’t think we’ll need these?  I remember the bunks on the _Wyvern,_ if you don’t.  My back will appreciate some extra mattresses and bolsters.”

Chuckling, Kai nodded agreement, ignoring Lys’ sharp tone, and continued folding gowns, stockings, tunics and smalls, and placing them in a chest.  She had just closed the lid and fastened the latch when four guards appeared at their door.  The men hefted the chest and bedding, leaving the bolsters for the women to carry.  Donning their cloaks, they took one last look around the small room.  Lys waved the other two on.

“I want to make sure we didn’t leave anything,” she said. 

Kai stopped and bent over, looking under the bed,  “Last thing we need is you creeping around on your knees,” came the muffled comment from behind the bed, once Reina left.  “Go, so they don’t think you’re causing problems.  I’ll be right along.”

Her hand on her stomach, Lys felt the baby kick against it, proving Kai’s point.  She had begun to feel unbalanced as her weight shifted.  She took one last look and descended to the Hall.  Kai followed before anyone commented on her absence.  She nodded and Lys relaxed.  The small pouch with their rings, the Blight pills, her other jewelry and the Ashes had been hidden in a crevice behind the bed.  Best that Kai kept it now.  They could find another hiding place on the ship.

**x==========x**

Lys rose early the next morning, after a good night’s sleep.  The gentle rocking of the ship, the extra mattress, and the bolster behind her back had all contributed to a more comfortable bunk.  It’s narrow width and her growing belly would, she hoped, discourage Thomas from joining her.  That and the likelihood that the women from the barracks would be brought aboard.  She assumed that Thomas, who had spent the night ashore, wanted his entertainment to stay with him, wherever he slept.  Given the thin wall between her cabin and his, she would know if he had company.

Splashing water from a ewer into the basin on the table between the bunks, Lys sponged off the last remnants of sleep.  Shivering, she pulled a clean tunic over her stockings, smalls and breast band, followed by her gown from the day before.  She had added panels, from the cloth the elves had woven, to each side of her best gowns, to accommodate her expanding girth.  With another length of cloth, she wrapped her hair, almost chin length now, to keep it from flying in the wind she could hear battering the ship.  They had come aboard after dark and gone directly to bed, so exploring the ship and finding Maric would be her first task.  When her stomach growled, as if in protest, she decided some food should come first. 

Slipping on her cloak, she put her arms through the slits and hugged it around her torso as she clambered up the passage to the deck.  She hoped the cook had been able to light a small fire for tea and porridge.  Walking onto the deck she found the sun shining and the wind not as bad as it had sounded.  As the cook filled a cup with tea and a bowl with porridge, Lys took her spoon from the pouch on her belt.  Holding the cup and bowl, she looked for a place to sit.  Spying a young woman sitting on the steps to the steering platform, Lys joined her.  She began to introduce herself, but the girl cut her short. 

“I know who you are,” she snapped.

“And you find me offensive?”

“You’re the slave master’s wife, what do you think?”

“I think you sail on a slaver’s ship and that you do not know me.  I do not chose to be here.”  Lys began to get up, but, holding the tea and bowl, she struggled, and fell back onto the step, slopping tea onto her cloak.  “If you can tolerate my silent company, I’ll eat and leave when I finish.”

The woman nodded her assent and they sat, while Lys ate her porridge, leaving the tea to cool.  As she finished, the woman spoke.  “I don’t mean to be rude, I just hate being here, but…Captain Ranulf is my father.  He carries your husband’s slaves, but I don’t usually sail with him.”

“We don’t choose our parents.  You don’t approve of his cargo?”

“No.” 

The girl stared towards the shore as Lys sipped her tea.  “Look,” she said, “I am sorry.  My name is Estrid.  I lost my galley, _The Sappho_ , in Denerim during the battle.  My father’s was the first ship out of Denerim, so a few of my crew and I sailed with him in Cloudreach.  I stayed to earn enough to get my own ship and crew again, but it’s dirty money and I’m regretting it.”

“Not many ships stayed for the battle.  Why were you still there?  Or was your galley in dry dock with the _Wyvern_?”

“I came back once too often for refugees.  Lost half my crew when the dragon attacked and the rest - most of them - stayed in the city to help rebuild rather than sail with my father.  They will find another berth when shipping returns.  Father has had other cargo these past months so I stayed on, convincing myself he’d reformed.  ‘Course he hasn’t, but I need to get to Wycomb, where I have contacts.  My father agreed to make port and leave me there on his way to Vyrantium.”

“That’s where Thomas is going?”

“I don’t know about your husband, but that’s where the mage wants to go and where my father delivers the…cargo.  Maker, I hate it.  I hate that his greed overcame his integrity.  He’s not the man I knew as a child.”  Estrid’s brow furrowed, as she studied Lys.  “You were in Denerim during the battle.”

“I was.”

“Do you know much about darkspawn, about Blight sickness?”

“Some,” Lys said slowly, “why?”

“Two men in sickbay below.  My father, your husband, and the Tevinter spent the past two days in the cave, with their guard and most of Father’s crew retrieving chests and goods stored there.  Your husband says they’re trade goods, but…Father thinks the chests hold the dead Arl’s treasure.  Your husband had the crew store all the chests in his cabin, not in the hold.  Worse, Father told me there’s been fighting in the caves, but he won’t say more than that.  Who would they fight?  No one else is here.  I wondered if the guards mutinied, except that the wounded men below - they’re feverish and delirious, but their wounds aren’t that bad.”

“The caves, how deep do they go?” Lys asked, picturing the abandoned dwarven harbor near Long’s Reach.  _Could this have been a dwarven trading port with an Avvar fort above it?  The Vigil has Avvar roots, or so Nate used to tell us.  Those roots go deep - maybe even into the Roads._

“Deep.  I heard Lord Thomas say the monsters prevent his brother getting through from the Vigil.  He said the monsters would destroy any patrol he sent, but now they’re attacking in this direction.”

“Andraste’s Fingernails, they’re fighting darkspawn attacking from the Deep Roads.”  Lys saw the incomprehension on Estrid’s face.  “The old dwarven roads.  There must be a passage, a part of the Deep Roads, between the caves and Vigil’s Keep, the ancestral Howe seat, but it’s blocked by darkspawn.  Those men below, do they have dark splotches on their skin?”

Estrid nodded. 

“They have Blight sickness.”  Lys looked around the ship.  “How many sailors did your father leave?”

“Nine plus the cook.  He only had fifteen sailors.  He planned to add more in Wycomb for the sail to Vyrantium, since four of the crew are mine and will go with me.”

“So, of the nine, four will follow your orders?”

“Yes.”

“Is there an armory?  Can we get bows and swords?”

“We?  And why?”  Estrid stared at the girl who sat straight, eyes alert, no longer huddled against the bulkhead.

“I can still shoot, but Kai will need a sword and dagger and Reina knows a few primal spells.  We’ll take over the ship.  Give your father’s sailors the choice of joining us or joining their Blight infected mates ashore.”  Lys watched the other woman’s face show a range of emotions as she struggled to comprehend Lys’ proposal. “We can try to save your father, if he’s not infected, but Nicephorus must be killed or he will use his magic.”

Estrid regained her composure, eyes narrowing as she leaned forward.  “And your husband?”

Lys shrugged.  “We can give him the choice of being our prisoner and facing justice for his crimes.  If he declines, he’ll die.”

“No love lost then.”  The pregnant girl’s cold attitude surprised Estrid, but her plan made sense.

“Not all marriages are consensual.  He and his father attacked my home, killed my family and friends.  Love was never a part of it.”

“The Highever attack?  Who are you?”

“I thought Thomas bragged of his wife’s pedigree.”  Estrid cocked her head to one side and shook it.  “No?  Then it doesn’t matter.  I’m just a trophy he acquired when he fled Denerim after the battle.” 

Estrid stood and held out her hand for the bowl and cup, freeing Lys to steady herself as she rose. 

“You go talk to your crew and I’ll get Reina and Kai-”

“-I would like to save my father.”

“I’ll ask Reina to cast a sleep spell on him.  As long as he doesn’t fight us….”

“You’re sure the mage will help?”

Lys smiled.  “Positive.  Kai and I are alive and mostly unharmed because of her.  And, Estrid, those men in sickbay, they need to die.  There’s no cure for Blight sickness and they’ll just become ghouls and attack us.  I’ll do it, if you’d rather not.  Blight sickness progresses at different rates, but there’s no hope.“ _I_ _’m not wasting the few pills I have left on slavers._

“I’ll take care of it.”  Estrid fumbled in her belt pouch as she wondered who this girl might be.  “Here’re the keys to my father’s cabin and the arms chest.  Get what you need.  I’ll meet you there.”  She watched Thomas’ wife walk towards the cabins.  _She_ _’s a surprise.  No one’s said anything about Thomas’ wife being a shield maiden, but_ , Estrid looked up at the keep, _where could she have gone if she fought back?  Must have been biding her time for a chance like this.  She takes charge, claims she can shoot, and knows more about the Blight than most._   Shaking her head, Estrid called the sailors from the _Sappho_ to her side.

Lys looked towards shore before returning to her cabin, but saw no one outside the cave.  The shallop lay on the shingle, its bow out of the water, and its oars shipped.  She hurried to her cabin to get Kai and Reina and check on Maric.

**x==========x**

“Lys, are you sure this will work?  What do you know about this woman, Estrid?”  Kai stood in front of Reina, arms crossed.

“She’s a friend of Isabela’s.  A good friend, since we saw Isabela after she left Estrid’s galley, the _Sappho_.”

“In Denerim, when we met Isabela on the quay?  Zev said she had come from a galley.”

“I noticed it.  A lovely ship.  It’s too bad she lost it and she’s not happy to be here.  I do believe her.  Unless you have a better idea?”

Kai shook her head and Reina confirmed that Estrid did not condone her father’s slave trading.  Nicephorus had been contemptuous of the woman, but confident that she would not betray her father.  Still, he had advised caution when she might hear them.  _She knows of the slaves, but no need for her to know the other cargo we carry,_ he had said.

“Which cargo?  The treasure or the prisoner?”  Lys asked.

“Both, I think,” Reina replied.  “They brought the prisoner on board with the elves, yesterday.  He’s in the cabin across the passageway, but his door is locked.”

Kai and Lys exchanged a look.  “That won’t be a problem,” Kai said.

“We have a ship, a captain, scores of elves and a human prisoner to set free and, if we understand correctly, chests of gold and treasure,” Lys said, wrapping strips of linen around her hands and left forearm in lieu of the gloves and bracer she usually wore when shooting.  “Much of Howe’s ill-gotten gains lie in the next cabin in the chests I saw them loading yesterday.  They’re trying to bring out the last few chests today, but darkspawn have attacked them in the caves.  If they survive the ‘spawn, we’ll see they don’t make it to the ship.”  She finished wrapping her hands.  “Estrid doesn’t know who I am, only that I’m from Highever and a noble.  Thomas did not brag about his bride, it seems.  We should keep it that way.”

“He didn’t,” Reina agreed.  “Nicephorus advised him to, as he put it, leave Melysande Cousland in her grave for now.  He worried that some rumor of your survival would get out and your brother and the queen that was would begin a search.  Only the three of us know who you are.”

“And the prisoner.” Lys said.  “Do you know who he is?”

Reina nodded.  “Blood of Calenhad and revenge of the old arl.  Nicephorus taught me how to preserve the blood.”

“No one’s taking any more blood!” Lys snapped.   

“No, of course not, but why not just sail off now,” Reina asked, “before any of them return?”

“The tide’s coming in.  We can’t.  With so few crew, we need to row with the tide to get out of this narrow harbor.”  Seeing Reina’s puzzled look, Lys explained that she had grown up on the coast and learned to sail as a child.  “My mother sailed a ship against the Orlesians during the Rebellion.  She made sure my brother and I could handle a boat.  It’s been a while, but it’s not a skill you lose.”

“Do the crew know about the treasure?” Kai asked.

“If they loaded it, they must suspect,” Lys replied.

“You going to return it?”

“Some, if we can, but everyone will get a share.  We’ll worry about that once we get out to sea.  Now let’s go find some weapons.”

Kai smiled as they filed out of the cabin.  She had glimpsed the girl she had known in Highever and the woman who had fought the Blight.  _She_ _’s finally got something to fix._    

Estrid and seven sailors joined the three women in the captain’s cabin.  Estrid reported that two of her father’s crew declined to join them, despite her warnings about Blight sickness.  One had fought back and died, but the other was bound and stowed in a storage locker. below.  Estrid had killed the two Blight stricken sailors. 

“They’ll need to burn,” Lys said.  “Maybe, if we’re successful, we can put them all in the shallop and set it on fire as we leave.  Now let’s get on deck and watch for them.” As they walked, Lys pulled Estrid aside.  “Estrid, your father and his crew, if they’re not used to fighting darkspawn, it’s likely they’re infected.  Did they wear armor?”

The woman shook her head no.  “Some had leather vests, but nothing more.  This is a trading ship and the sailors went along to retrieve the chests, not fight.”

“So, not even trained to fight?”

“No.  This is a fast ship, it can outrun most others it meets. My father’s a skillful captain and wise enough to pay the pirates on Estwatch to let him pass unmolested.  My four can fight, but I traveled more dangerous waters than he did and I did not always pay Estwatch.”

Lys smirked.  “You and Isabela?”

Estrid’s eyes widened.  “You know Isabela?”

“We’ve met.  At the Pearl in Denerim.  We sparred a bit.”  Lys’ lips quirked at Estrid’s skeptical look.  “I wasn’t pregnant then.”

Estrid laughed.  “No, I would think not.”

“Captain,” one of Estrid’s crew called.  “There’s fighting on shore.”

They rushed out of the cabin to see Captain Ranulf, Nicephorus, and Thomas running for the shallop, while the guards and sailors fought a rear-guard defense against a large group of darkspawn.  As they watched, an arrow caught Thomas between his shoulder blades and he went down.  Nicephorus and the Captain each grabbed an arm and hoisted the young man into the shallop as the defenders behind them fell to the genlocks and hurlocks converging on the boat.  Thomas fell into a heap in the water puddled along the centerboard.  Lightning broke over the other two men as they tried to clamber over the bow of the shallop.  They fell back and turned to fight, as the last of the guards joined them. 

Kai and Lys looked at each other.  “Emissary,” they said in unison.

As they watched, Nicephorus stiffened, his arms falling to his sides.

“What is that?” cried Estrid.

“Darkspawn magic,” Lys explained.  “I think that spell is crushing Nicephorus.  The Emissary would want the mage incapacitated, so it uses a crushing spell, followed by more lightning, which bounces from one man to another, causing wounds.”

“You sound like you believe it can reason.”

“Up to a point, it can.  It knows how to fight and use its skills.”

As she spoke the darkspawn fell upon the men by the boat.  Everyone on the ship stared at the scene in shocked silence.  Finally, Lys took a deep breath and said, “Reina, can you reach the shallop with a fireball?”

Eyes widening as she understood, she nodded.  “I think so.  The sail should catch.”

“Good.”  As Lys spoke, Kai began ripping apart the linen tunic she held, dipping each strip into a pot of lamp oil.  She gave the strips to Lys to wrap around her arrows, as Reina cast a fireball towards the shallop’s sail. 

“A few flaming arrows will help it along and keep the ‘spawn away.  They hate water and I’ve never seen them sail, but not worth taking any chances.”  She loosed a half dozen flaming arrows as the shallop caught and blazed, driving the darkspawn back towards the tunnel and burning any human or ‘spawn in or near the boat.

Later, she found Estrid watching the still smoldering boat, red coals flickering just beyond the reach of the waves lapping at the remains of shallop and men.  Only partially destroyed, Lys guessed that water had filled the bottom of the shallop and the tide had kept its lower strakes too wet to burn.   Kai had mentioned that the women from the barracks were not on the ship, but having no way to get to shore, she could not see if anyone still lived anywhere in the Orphanage.  

“I’m sorry, Estrid.”

“He dug his own grave,” she murmured. 

“And he was your father.” Lys held out a cloak Kai had brought to her.

“Thank you.”  Estrid took the cloak, wrapped it around herself and looked at Lys, head cocked.  “You don’t mourn at all?”

“No.  Thomas, even as a boy, hurt anything he touched.  He had too much of his father in him.  He had to know darkspawn lurked in the caves, yet his greed drove him back again and again.  He killed all those soldiers and your father and his sailors.  I’m just grateful he didn’t harm Kai and that his prisoner survives.”

“Yet you carry his child.”

“Yes.  I haven’t figured out how I feel about that.  Right now, all I feel is relief.  I’m not dead.  I’m no longer a prisoner.  We have a ship - and a very small crew, but a ship none-the-less.  The elves can help us row out to sea when the tide turns.”  She nodded towards the elves, who had been released from the cramped covered area in the bow and come up on deck.  “They may not be much use once we’re under sail, but they can sit on the benches and pull.  For the first time in six months I have hope.”

“We should sail on the tide,” Estrid agreed.  “Will you and your servant-”

”-friend, not servant,” Lys corrected.  “She only played that role to keep safe.” 

“Have you decided where we’re going?”

“Let’s get out to sea and then drop anchor and talk.  I have some ideas and maybe a proposition for you.  In the meantime, are there any empty barrels or chests?”

“Probably,” Estrid said, cocking her head.

“The two Blighted sailors’ bodies, they should burn, but until we can get them ashore, we should keep them contained.  Kai can help you get them in the chests and lash the chests on deck.”  _We_ _’ll give pills to Estrid, the crew and any elves who help._ Frowning, she worried how long her supply would last _.  No matter, I can get to Areth when we_ _’re in Higheverport.  I’ll figure out the rest, a safe place for Kai, Maric and me, once we get the elves to safety._

The two-masted caravel had oars to use when maneuvering under sail became impossible.  The elves could, indeed, help row and did so enthusiastically when they realized they sailed towards freedom somewhere in Ferelden. When the inlet finally widened sufficiently to allow Estrid, now a Captain again, to raise sails, the elves remained on deck to eat, sleep and simply revel in doing as they pleased.  Estrid allowed it as long as they kept out of the way of the sailors.  A few elves had some sailing experience, from their days before enslavement, and offered to help.  The Captain accepted gratefully.  Even with the elven volunteers, she had only thirteen sailors to sail a sixty-foot-long craft.

As the mainland faded behind them, in the waters between Brandel’s Reach and Alamar, they dropped anchor, well before the sun reached its zenith.  Rowing with the early morning tide, before sunrise, had let them raise sails just as the breeze freshened and filled their sails.  Ordering the cook to serve a full mid-day meal, despite the early hour, she, Reina and Kai sat around the table in the captain’s cabin and looked expectantly at Lys.

“I’ve looked at the chests to see just how much treasure we own.  It’s substantial. I must assume the gold came from Tevinter, for slaves and blood, and from skimming Ferelden taxes, theft, and who knows what else.  I’d like to return it.  By that I mean some to the Ferelden government, some to Amaranthine, some to Highever, some to the Denerim, Highever, and Amaranthine Alienages that Howe ravaged, and some to us.

“First, I propose each crew member and elf get five sovereigns - or rather its equal in a mix of silvers and coppers, so they aren’t accused of theft.  Is that fair?”

“There’s that much?” asked Estrid.

“This represents years, perhaps decades, of theft by Rendon Howe,” Lys said.  “One cask holds ledgers with all the records.  He documented his thievery, but returning what he stole to individuals…that would be impossible.  I thought…well, I have contacts in Cumberland at a merchant bank.  If they hold the money they can distribute it, anonymously.  It can help Ferelden recover from the Blight.

“Estrid, this is your ship, by right of inheritance, to sell or keep, so I don’t include it in the treasure.  Your share can help you get started again, with this ship or a new galley.  If you want, I could help you get a contract with House Haris.”

“House Haris!  They don’t contract with just anyone.”

“No, they don’t, but I am not just anyone and they will take my word.  The only condition is that you tell no one that I helped you or that Kai, the prisoner, and I were even on this ship.”

“Agreed,” Estrid said.

“Reina, my contacts in Cumberland can help you too, depending on what you want.  You can join the wardens there or return to the Circle.  Again, you can’t tell anyone that I helped.”

“I don’t know,” Reina said.  “I never considered returning to the Circle.  I couldn’t as me - they would send me to Aeonar.”

“We can see if there are other ways.  Or join the Wardens.  Your past won’t matter to them:”

“There are wardens in Ferelden.”

“You want to see Jowan again?” Kai asked.

Reina sighed. _I hadn_ _’t thought about them knowing Jowan, but they know all the wardens in Ferelden.  Did he tell them about me?_

“We met before, Reina, just after the attack on Highever,” Kai added. “I was with a Dalish scouting patrol and you -”

Reina’s eyes grew wide, recalling the Dalish elves who had discovered her hiding place.  “-I was in a hunting camp in the Coast Range.  That was you?”

“Long story, but, yes, that was me.  Your hair is memorable and Jowan told us your name when he told his story.”

Reina snorted.  “My hair’s been my bane since Jowan forced me out of the Tower.  The elf with the white hair appeared on the posters Nicephorus put up in Highever.  Marjolaine offered the only way out when she visited.  May I think on your offer?  Not the leaving you anonymous part, but which I should take.”

“No need to decide until we get to Cumberland.  Which leads me to my final suggestion.  We should leave the elves in Higheverport.  They’ll be better treated there than in Amaranthine and have more opportunity to return home, if they still have one, set up businesses, or buy homes or farm holds.”

Kai gave Lys a sidelong glance.  “Slight bias in your thinking?”

“No.  Arl Nathaniel and Bann Delilah will make changes in Amaranthine, but it will take time to change the peoples’ attitudes.  Highever already accepts elven merchants, artisans and farmers, grudgingly sometimes, but better there than elsewhere. The _Felicissima Armada_ _’s_ blockade stopped Howe from sending Highever elves to Tevinter, so the Alienage is well populated, unlike Amaranthine City’s which Howe depopulated.  The elves will fare better in Higheverport and from there they can go where they will.”

Estrid looked at the three women, confused.  “You’re from Higheverport then?” she asked.

Lys nodded.  “But I’m not going home.  The prisoner and I will go to Cumberland, if you’ll sail there.  Reina and Kai can come with us or not as they chose.”  She looked at Kai.  “I thought maybe you could help the elves settle and then find Zev.”

Kai laughed.  “If you think you’re having that baby without me being there, think again, but why won’t you go home?”

“I might, but not right away.  The prisoner needs time to adjust and…what do I say about the baby?”

“I can help with that,” Reina said.  “It’s not Thomas’. “

No one spoke for a long time. Lys looked from Reina to her belly, rubbing it as the baby kicked.  “But-”

“-I told Thomas and Nicephorus that you were not pregnant to protect you after they captured you.  That was not true.  You were pregnant.  A few weeks, a month at most, but I wanted to keep you and the baby safe.  Thomas would have beaten you in his rage, if he had known.  A miscarriage would have been the best outcome.”

“Couldn’t Nicephorus-”

Reina laughed.  “That man couldn’t diagnose a hangnail on his little finger.  He had no idea.”  Reina leaned over and patted Lys’ bulge.  “You’re six months gone.”

Lys stared at her belly.  “It’s Ali’s?”  She looked at Kai, who broke out in a huge grin. 

“That’s good, right?  Lys?”

Lys looked up and shook her head, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.  “I need to tell Ma…the prisoner.” She got up and hurried out of the room.

“The prisoner?” Reina asked. 

“He’s a relative of sorts,” Kai answered.  “It’s all very complicated.  The baby’s father is dead, and now it’s even less likely that she’ll go home, but she and the prisoner will have the baby.”

Estrid stood, shaking her head.  “You’ve all confused me.  I’m a simple ship captain.  I agree with Lys’ suggestions, so I guess we head for Higheverport.  I’d rather go there than Amaranthine.  It’s a bigger port, I can find the crew I need, and we can sail on to Cumberland.”  She looked at Kai.  “Does she really have contacts at House Haris?”

Kai nodded.

Estrid headed towards the door as she continued speaking. “We need to sail on.  If we stay too long we’ll find raiders from Brandel’s Reach or Alamar sailing out to check on us.  They’re not pirates, exactly, but they prey on any damaged or lost ship that strays too near.  We’ll use the rest of the daylight to move beyond their reach.”

**x==========x**

Lys closed the door to Maric’s room behind her, not surprised to find the cabin empty.  Like the elves, Maric preferred the open air.  She found him on deck, chatting with a group of elves, and said she needed to talk with him.  He followed her back to his cabin.

“Sit,” she ordered.

“You’re ordering me?”

“I am.”  She maneuvered herself onto his bunk to sit, angling her body so that she could face him.  “Do you want to go home?  Can you?”

“To Ferelden?  No.  I’d just attract more Tevinter attention from this Tevinter mage who wants my blood.  I don’t even know who he is.”

“I do.  Howe kept a record of his…income and its sources. Aurelian Titus is the name of Nicephorus’ master or employer or whatever, but I don’t know any more than that.  I can guess that he will search for you or anyone else carrying Calenhad’s blood.  Any direct descendants at least.”

“Then, no.  I can’t go home.  Even without that threat, imagine the uproar I’d cause.”

“It would be a good uproar, but not with this Magister seeking you.”  She covered her face with her palms and took a deep breath.  “And you can’t be Maric. You’ll be Meran, but I _will_ be Lys.  I’m tired of not being me.”  She flicked her hand at Maric’s surprised look.  “It’s a common enough name.  Short for Lysa or Elyssa, if I need a formal name.”  She fell silent, a slight frown creasing her forehead.  _I keep saying Lys died during Howe_ _’s attack, but that’s not true.  The girl who agreed to an Orlesian marriage died, but she had already been defeated when she agreed to do her duty.  After the attack, using Mel hid me, but now I don’t have to hide myself.  And my duty is to me, my child, Maric and Kai.  I’m Lys._   _I have a child to raise.  I can dance again and fight and tell this baby stories about its father and the stars and satellites, and be me while I do so, even if no one in Ferelden knows I_ _’m alive._ “No one will be looking for me,” she continued.  “I’m dead, and Thomas told no one at the Orphanage who I was.   As we’re obviously Fereldan, we’ll be from…um…White River.  I’m a widow and you’re my good father.  Meran and Lys of White River.  It’s close enough to Denerim that Kai can be from there too, which fits her accent, and yours, and its far enough north to fit mine.  We’re refugees from the Blight.  We’ll figure out the rest as we go.  First, we must free the elves and then we’ll ask Cousin Samuel for help. 

Maric smiled.  “I don’t know whether to call you Eleanor or Loghain - you have shades of both.  And who’s Cousin Samuel?”

“Samuel Haris, the head of the House, Mum’s cousin and mine.  We can trust him.  I worked for him as Layne Haris after Cailan sent Papa away.”  Her head tilted as she considered what he had said. “I don’t mind being like Mum, but, Loghain-”

“-right,” he said softly, a slight frown appearing, “but indulge me, it’s been six years since I’ve had conversations with anyone but myself.  I find I think out loud. I mean my friend, and yours, not Howe’s puppet.  Loghain often saw the necessities I…overlooked.  That’s all I meant.  I suppose I need to remember the damage he’s done recently.”

“It was the blood magic influencing him, but sometimes it’s hard to remember the man I knew as a child.”

“He always had a ruthless steak,” Maric replied.  “Always in service to Ferelden…or me…or Rowan, never himself, but there, none-the-less.  From what you’ve said, Howe used that and his fear of Orlais.”

“Fear?”

“Fear.  Fear the Occupation would be repeated.  It’s not rational, which may be why he succumbed to the mages’ influence.  For all his veneer of control, Loghain is a deeply emotional man.  Emotions he rarely expresses.”  Maric smiled.  “Except around you - at least you as a child.  You brought out the best in us both.  We should try to remember the best about him.”

Nodding, Lys changed the subject.  “We have someone besides ourselves to protect.”

“Your baby, yes, I know that.”

“Your grandson.”

He stared at her, brow furrowing as, uncomprehending, his head tilted to one side. “My-”

“-I just found out.  The child is Alistair’s, not Thomas’.  It’s Ali’s.”  She took his hand and put it on her belly.  “Wait for it.  It kicks all the time.  It’s Ali’s and mine.”

“Are you convincing me or yourself?” he asked, grinning as the baby kicked.

“Both.  Reina lied to keep me…us, safe.  Thomas would have never let another’s child live.  You can help me take care of Ali’s child.”

“A second chance?”

“Sort of.  A gift to him, at least.”

“Fiona’s grandchild.  He or she might have magic.”

“That…we can worry about that later.  Other threats are more immediate.”

“What threats?”

“This child will carry the blood that Aurelian Titus and Orlais both want.  The Chantry and Orlais tried to capture Ali and they will try to take his child.  Why wouldn’t this Tevinter magister try to take you both?  We need to stay hidden.  Neither of us can go home.”

The former king, once called Maric, sat silently and then nodded.  “Maren it is then, Lys.  Where do we go?  Where is this Cousin Samuel?”

“Cumberland, but first we take the elves to Higheverport,” she said and proceeded to tell Maric her plan.

* * *

 

 **A/N** : _Thank you for reading.  Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine._

_I hope you continue to read and enjoy._


	2. Sans Chevaliers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlesian wardens, the Thaw, and disturbing discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™.   
> SPOILERS: I incorporate events from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 2:  Sans Chevaliers**

**9:31 Dragon, Justinian  === Denerim**

Liam Amell, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, glared at the Orlesian warden, while wondering how any woman could be more stubborn than Morrigan, but Warden Caron - no the self-proclaimed Warden- _Commander_ Caron, who had refused to even give him her first name - had proved she could be.  Not for the first time since the Orlesians’ arrival, he wondered why he had accepted the position as Warden-Commander of Ferelden. 

“Is it not true that the so-called Fereldan Warden-Commander died slaying the Archdemon?” the Caron woman asked, her barely intelligible words, spoken in Common tongue, garbled by a thick Orlesian accent.

Given the perfection of her grammar and word choice, Liam suspected the woman exaggerated her accent to annoy him.  She had refused to acknowledge his attempts at Orlesian, which he admittedly read better than he spoke.  Upon arrival, without preamble or introduction, she had presented him with a list of demands decorated with the embossed seal, ribbons, and wax impression of the signet of the Warden-Commander of Orlais in Montsimmard.  The document claimed the Orlesians acted on instructions from Weisshaupt, but no vellum dripping with ribbons, wax, and the impression of the First Warden’s signet had appeared.  Liam had stared at the document and reviewed, in his mind, the events leading up to this confrontation.

A week ago, Arl Nathaniel had sent a bird warning Liam that Orlesians, claiming to be wardens, had landed in Amaranthine and were headed to Denerim.  Reluctant to fight a group of soldiers purporting to be wardens, Nate had let them go, but shadowed their progress, much to the Orlesians' annoyance.  Once at Denerim’s gate, a full patrol of Denerim Guard had met the wardens and escorted the Orlesians to the Warden Compound where an alley, formed by Nevarran wardens on one side and Fereldans on the other, welcomed them. 

Warden Caron, at the head of the dozen Orlesian wardens, announced that she had come to assume the position of Warden-Commander of Ferelden.  Ignoring the presence of almost thirty Fereldan and Nevarran wardens, she had presented the document Liam now held, and proceeded to claim that Weisshaupt had ordered Montsimmard to investigate the reported Blight in Ferelden and ensure that, if the Archdemon had been slain, the Fereldan wardens followed all relevant rules regarding disposal of the Archdemon’s body and collection of its blood.  Weisshaupt, she added, intended her to do all this as Warden-Commander, since the First Warden had not replaced the dead Warden-Commander Duncan.

“Reported Blight!” Colum had snarled from his place behind Liam.  “Woman, you are a warden.  You know very well an Archdemon rose, just as we knew in Cumberland, and just as they did at Weisshaupt.  Ferelden has its own wardens who led the fight and defeated the beast, without your aid.”

“Or that of your chevaliers,” Taina had added.  “Dwarves, elves, Nevarran wardens, mercenary allies, and Fereldans defeated this Blight and killed the Archdemon.  The monster is not allegedly dead, it _is_ dead!”

“Then I repeat my question,” the Orlesian warden had snapped, “is it not true that the so-called Fereldan Warden-Commander died slaying the Archdemon?”

Quelling the urge to rub his hand through his hair, Liam rolled up the vellum document he held and forced his thoughts back to the present and the stern, stubborn woman facing him.  “Yes, Warden-Commander Alistair died slaying the Archdemon.  I witnessed his death and that of the monster, as did several of the wardens here.”

“If that is so, there is Archdemon blood which we must retrieve,” the Orlesian Warden had said, frowning.  They had heard the Nevarrans had joined with the Fereldans, but she had not expected a warden as senior as Colum to lead so many Nevarrans.  The rank of Nevarrans lining one side of the bailey opposite their Fereldan allies had destroyed the Orlesian assumption that only a few rogue Nevarrans had joined the Fereldans.   Her superiors had not believed Warden-Commander Amaury of Nevarra would act officially, but, given the evidence, he had.  That meant he had notified Weisshaupt and recognized the Fereldans as a separate Warden establishment.  She realized the Fereldan still spoke.

“That has been done, but perhaps I might introduce myself, before further discussion.”

“And you are?” Warden Caron asked, through clenched teeth.

“Warden-Commander Liam Amell.”

A glare had greeted his words.  “We’ll see, Warden Amell.  That document does not confirm you in your post.” 

Liam had inclined his head, acknowledging Caron’s introduction and then held out the document.  “This document cannot confirm me.  Ferelden, as a sovereign state, does not obey Orlais or its wardens.  The Grey Wardens of Ferelden do not acknowledge any authority other than the First Warden in Weisshaupt,” he said, maintaining a pleasant demeanor with some effort.  “This document from your Warden-Commander in Montsimmard, the Orlesian Warden-Commander, has no authority here in Ferelden. Can you present the instructions from Weisshaupt naming you Warden-Commander?”

“I am not discussing my orders in the dust of your courtyard, Warden…Liam is it?”  She pulled off her gauntlets.  “Show me to my room and my wardens to their barracks.  I require a bath and a meal.  I will summon you to meet with me at my pleasure.”

To her shock, Liam chuckled and the rest of the Fereldans and Nevarrans began to laugh. It seemed the only response to the arrogance of the Orlesian warden.  Wearing an amused smile, a slender, young blonde woman joined the Warden-Commander, her blue eyes narrowed as she met Caron’s glare. 

“More wardens, Warden-Commander?  They’re a bit late for the fight, yes?”

Liam bowed his head to the woman, as did all the other Fereldans and Nevarrans.  “My Lady,” Liam said, using the less formal address that Anora had insisted people close to her begin to use, “this is Warden Caron from Orlais.”

Caron and her wardens quickly realized that the Warden-Commander had been joined by the Dowager Queen and Regent of Ferelden, but Caron persisted.  “Warden-Commander Caron, Your Majesty.” 

“Orlais has sent its Warden-Commander to Ferelden?  On what mission?” Anora enquired.

“I am not…I am Warden-Commander of Ferelden,” Caron replied.  “Appointed at the wish of the First Warden.”

“Ferelden has a Warden-Commander, Warden Caron.  One accepted by the Regents and our people.”  She looked at Liam and Colum.  “Has the First Warden appointed a foreigner, one not a member of the Ferelden wardens and one not acceptable to us.” 

“No, my lady.  Warden Caron’s… _instructions_ , for want of a better term, come from the Orlesian Warden-Commander.  She presents nothing from Weisshaupt.”

Anora looked over the wardens standing in three columns behind Caron.  “You bring only wardens?” she asked.  “Sans chevalier?” When Warden Caron failed to answer, Anora began to question her in such perfect Orlesian that the Orlesian warden had no choice but to reply in the same language.  Anora left no doubt that she considered the Fereldan wardens answerable only to Weisshaupt and would tolerate no influence from Orlais.  When Caron noted the presence of Nevarran wardens, Anora replied that they served under the Fereldan Warden-Commander when in Ferelden.  The Nevarran wardens and Hrothgar’s Wrath mercenaries, Anora explained, were Ferelden’s allies, arriving at Ferelden’s invitation, not landing unannounced and marching through the land as invaders, accompanied by chevaliers. 

Caron’s jaw clenched as the Queen Regent spoke. 

“Perhaps the Orlesians do need to rest, Warden-Commander,” Anora said to Liam.  “I’m sure you will find them more…diplomatic…after a hot bath and a good meal.  If they remain within the Compound, neither I, nor the other regents, will object to their stay, but they may not venture out of the Compound without an escort.  Captain Kylon will provide guards, if they wish to leave.”

“We will see that they abide by your wishes, my lady,” Liam said.  He waved to Daveth and the Warden Compound Seneschal.  “Show them to the accommodations we prepared.”  He nodded to Caron.  “I’ll arrange to meet you in the morning, Warden, but please provide me with any other documents you carry so that I may review them tonight.”

Grudgingly, with the Dowager Queen still watching, Caron retrieved several documents from her satchel and handed them to Liam.  He noticed none bore the distinctive blue and silver ribbons of the First Warden.  The Wardens’ seneschal stepped forward, bowed and indicated that Caron should follow him, while her wardens followed Daveth into the barracks.  To Caron’s surprise, an apartment had been prepared and a female dwarf, the one who had spoken in the bailey, directed servants carrying food, drink and hot water as she entered.  Caron looked at the dwarf, not quite hiding her surprise at how prepared the Fereldans seemed. 

“Messengers,” the dwarf said, reading Caron’s questioning stare. “You think your arrival in Amaranthine went unnoticed?  Surely experienced wardens would notice scouts shadowing them as they marched south?”

Caron pressed her lips together.  “I did not expect such organization.  I expected a land devastated by Blight.”

“Right, because a bunch of disorganized barbarians couldn’t defeat an Archdemon before it destroyed everything.”  Taina indicated the young human standing by the bath.  “Jocelyn will serve you, Warden.  She’ll arrange for your evening meal once you’ve bathed.  If you want to see your wardens, let her know and I will come and escort you.”  Seeing the woman about to object, Taina added.  “The compound is large.  We don’t want you getting lost.”

Three of Caron’s wardens joined her in the common area of her apartment after their evening meal, most likely, Liam assumed, to adjust their plans for the morning.  As the three left later that evening, Denis looked in on the Caron, while Daveth followed the three wardens, inviting them for a drink in the common room.

“Cecily, isn’t it?” Denis said, moving into the doorway before Warden Caron could shut him out.  “I was a few years your junior as a chevalier, but I remember you.” Seeing her blank look, he added, “Denis.”

Her mouth opened to form a small ‘o’, as she recognized the man with grey-streaked, dark hair.  “Denis de Riveaulx?”

“Warden Denis,” he corrected and entered her room.

“But…you died.  Your father named your brother his heir.” 

Denis shrugged.  “I’m a warden, it’s of no interest to me.”

“Why are _you_ not Warden-Commander?”

His mouth widened into a smile as he shook his head.  “Lack of seniority and experience, not being Fereldan…Warden-Commander Liam fought with Warden-Commander Alistair for a year; he’s traveled the Deep Roads; he fought the Archdemon; and he worked with our allies from Nevarra.  I’m just a new warden who joined in time to fight the final battle.”

“You don’t mind serving under a Fereldan mage?” 

“Do you object to his being Fereldan, or being a mage?”

“Both!”

“You object to warden mages?”

“Mages, all mages, need watchers.  I object to unsupervised mages, without templar guardians.”

“Isn’t one of Orlais’ Senior Wardens a mage?”

“Clarel? Yes, and in line to be Warden-Commander.  I will obey, but I do not have to agree with that choice.  We need mages, but not in leadership.”

Eyebrows raised, Denis poured himself a glass of wine from the pitcher on Caron’s table.  “I have no issues with my Warden-Commander.  In fact, he saved my life more than once.” 

“I serve with mages,” she snapped.  “But I often ask templars to march with us.”

“Along with the chevaliers?” Denis asked, thinking there must be a reason the woman hated mages so much.

Cecily’s jaw flexed, as her lips pressed together, but she made no reply. 

“At least he’s not an elf,” Denis smirked, thinking to lighten the mood.  “Or a dwarf.” 

Cecily Caron snorted.  “That tattooed dwarf, is she the Warden-Commander’s servant?”

Denis shook his head.  “Taina is the Warden-Commander’s second, the Warden-Constable.”  He sniffed at the Orlesian woman’s raised eyebrows. “Not fond of dwarves either?” 

“Dwarves have their place, but I object to the Carta.” 

He hesitated before continuing, wondering if he should placate the woman any further.  He decided to speak out.  “She’s forgotten more about fighting darkspawn than you’ll ever know, as have all the others, Fereldan and Nevarran alike. Cecily, these people just fought and defeated a Blight.  Orlais did nothing beyond threaten them with chevaliers at their border.  Coming here with some document from Montsimmard will get you nowhere.  Neither the wardens nor the regents believe Weisshaupt ordered anything.  They’re aware Orlais keeps Weisshaupt convinced that Fereldan is a tribute state to Orlais and not sovereign, but I’m sure Ferelden’s Nevarran allies have corrected Weisshaupt’s perceptions.” Denis grinned. “Or will, if they haven’t already.  You don’t have a shred of parchment from Weisshaupt do you?” 

Cecily’s mouth tightened into a thin line.  “I think it’s time you leave Warden Denis.” 

“As you wish _Warden_ Cecily.  Keep in mind that your wardens stand on what Fereldans call _thin ice_ and tread carefully.“  Cecily Caron held the door open, slamming it behind him as he left.

Denis knocked on Liam’s door to report the conversation to him and Taina.  Daveth joined them a short time later.  He revealed that, as they suspected, three of the ‘wardens’ were, in fact, chevaliers.  Assigning Daveth to watch the Orlesians, Liam and Taina went to the palace to confer with the Regents.  Early the next morning, Liam summoned Warden Caron to his study.  Reluctantly, persuaded to agree to Liam’s summons by Denis and Colum, Warden Caron entered Liam’s study, where Liam sat behind his work table.  He did not offer her a chair, but immediately stated, in Orlesian and then in the Common tongue, that there would be no further discussion until the chevaliers had gone.  Taina sat to his right, as his second, Denis stood on his left to interpret and Petyr, newly returned from Highever, stood next to Denis. Colum and Daveth sat on chairs against the wall, observing.  A raven perched on a rafter above them. 

At Caron’s look of feigned surprise Liam said, “You’re not going to try and tell me you were unaware?”

“We did not know what we might face,” Caron said.

“And your wardens can only fight with chevaliers to lead them?”

“They do not lead us.  We fight together.”

“Not in Ferelden,” Liam said.  “Fortunately for you, General Mac Tir is away, so you won’t have to face him.  The Regents wanted to expel all of you immediately, but I asked that we be permitted to deal with our own - the wardens that is - first.”  Liam added that, as luck would have it, a ship would leave on the tide for Ostwick and he expected the three chevaliers to be on it.  A contingent of guards waited outside the compound gate to escort them.

“And, once they leave, how will you _deal_ with us, _Warden-Commander_?” 

“We will show you the former Warden-Commander’s ashes and the Archdemon’s blood.  Since we already sent to Weisshaupt, advising them of everything you say you came to discover, nothing we tell you is news.  Once you have your answers, you too will leave and not return.   Another galley leaves tonight on the tide.

“We serve in Ferelden with the agreement of the Landsmeet, not,” he held up his hand at she began to speak, “not under their rule, but in alliance with the Fereldans and with respect for their laws and culture, just as you do in Orlais.  We recognize the authority of Weisshaupt, but Ferelden has the power to allow us to stay or, as they’ve done in the past, expel us.  As a representative of Montsimmard you have no standing here beyond that of fellow warden.  While we appreciate your efforts to educate us regarding the rules for collecting Archdemon blood and dealing with the Thaw following a Blight, you provided no new information.  Please, keep these for your own edification, should a Blight arise in Orlais.”  He handed the documents to her.  “I do not recognize the authority of your Warden-Commander over any Ferelden warden.  I am Warden-Commander of Ferelden.”

Caron accepted the documents, but did not step away, instead standing motionless, staring at the vellum and parchment in her hand.  Liam watched her, wondering if she ever relaxed her jaw.  He waited for another angry outburst.  Finally, she looked up.

“As your warden Denis has probably informed you, my name is Cecily Caron, Warden-Lieutenant Cecily Caron.  I will inform my superiors that we must all await Weisshaupt’s determination regarding who becomes Warden-Commander in Ferelden.”

“Weisshaupt has two choices: confirm a Fereldan or see the wardens expelled.  No Orlesian, no non-Ferelden, will ever serve here.”

“You have surprised me, Warden-Commander.  We expected a rabble which somehow, through some happy accident, succeeded in killing the Archdemon.  I see now, that is not so.” 

To her surprise, Liam laughed.  “It may have, ultimately, been a happy accident, despite our planning, plans in which your warden Riordan played a key part, but we are not and were not rabble.  Rabble did not defeat Orlais thirty years ago, despite the myths fostered by Val Royeaux, nor did rabble defeat the Archdemon.  While we may have our internal squabbles, not unlike Orlais and its Game, Ferelden is a united country with a Queen, a Regency, allies and people who will fight for their land against Blight, invasion or any other peril.” 

“A nice speech, Warden-Commander.  I will relay that to my leaders.”  She smiled then.  “I had hoped to meet the infamous Loghain Mac Tir.  We heard his star had set after he abandoned his king.”

Liam stood, leaned forward, his hands pressed against the table and, speaking softly, said, “I was at Ostagar Warden-Lieutenant.  Loghain did his duty.  You should hope to perform your duty half so well.  He made other mistakes, later, but he remains General of Ferelden’s armies.  He has no love for Orlesians, so be glad you did not meet him.”

Cecily Caron, inclined her head almost imperceptibly.  “I’ll accept your word, Warden-Commander.”

“We’ll meet in the bailey at Prime.  To show our goodwill, I’ll show you, and any wardens you choose to bring, the ashes and a cask of the blood.”

“A cask?”

“You don’t think I’m going to reveal where we store it do you?  You persist in thinking us fools.”

“No, no of course you won’t.  A cask will prove you have the blood.”

“We will await orders from Weisshaupt regarding its disposal.”

“And if Weisshaupt does not accept you as Warden-Commander?  They may prefer one of your other wardens, one not a mage, perhaps?”

“We’ll see if that happens, however, I suspect the First Warden has more pressing concerns than ousting me.  My fellow Warden-Commanders in Nevarra, Ansburg, Antiva, Ostwick and Starkhaven have acknowledged my position and conveyed their recognition to Weisshaupt.”

“I see.  You, “her eyes narrowed, “or your Nevarran advisers, are politically more adept than I expected.”

Pursing his lips, Liam crossed his arms.  “Warden-Lieutenant, I lived in a Circle of Magi for fifteen years.  Politics is as much a part of me as my mana.”

Caron stepped back, surprised at the sudden intensity of Warden Commander Amell’s gaze.  “Amell.  I’ve heard that name before.  Your family is a noble one in Kirkwall?”

“Ah, now I’m a noble, so marginally worthy of my post?”

“Blood will tell.”

He laughed.  “So we are led to believe.  Go home, Warden-Lieutenant.  A galley awaits you and your wardens in the harbor.  Once we show you the blood and ashes, you’ll be escorted to the quay and guarded until the tide turns.  The ships will carry you to Jader.  Don’t bother us again or your wish to meet General Loghain may be granted.”

**9:31 Dragon, Solace  === Jader**

Motioning to her wardens to follow her onto the quay, Warden-Lieutenant Cecily Caron debarked from the galley which had carried her and the Orlesian wardens from Denerim.  At the three chevaliers’ insistence, the galley carrying them had waited for the warden’s galley to join it outside Denerim’s harbor, in hopes the chevaliers could transfer to the wardens’ ship.  Rough seas had prevented the transfer.  The two galleys had sailed north together, hoping the seas would calm, but the chevalier’s galley had not reappeared after a storm separated them as they sailed from the Amaranthine Ocean into the Waking sea near an island the Ferelden’s called Brandel’s Reach.  _There_ _’s a reason we prefer to sail from Amaranthine,_ she thought, shifting her weight to adjust to land after a week at sea. _Fewer storms._  She motioned for her troops to join her, gave them orders to report to the joint chevalier and warden barracks and sent them on their way.  She turned in the other direction.

Jader had the look of a border seaport, with Fereldans, dwarves, Nevarrans, Marchers, elven servants, and Orlesians, each speaking an accented Common tongue or their own language, clogging the narrow streets.  Half-timbered buildings, their upper stories hanging over the passage ways, hosted shops at street level, their doors and shuttered windows open to the road to display the wares offered by the artisans, toiling in their workshops inside.  Cecily Caron ignored the shouted enticements and hurried past the displays.  Turning into a side street, she stepped over or around the detritus from the butcher shops lining this part of town and climbed the hill to a neighborhood close to the wall surrounding the city.  Here the clacking of looms filled her ears for a time, but the smell of dye vats soon replaced the noise.  Her eyes watered until she left the vats behind and turned toward a nearby town house, above and upwind from the dye yard.  The owner of the textile compound, Felice, deserved to know of Riordan’s fate and she doubted his fellow wardens, reluctant to divulge warden secrets, would tell her.   Caron and Riordan had formed an odd friendship, he a street urchin, thief and murderer and she a chevalier and child of nobility.  Felice, Riordan’s longtime lover and friend, had opened her home to Cecily as well, providing a refuge for a woman trying to succeed in what many considered a man’s role.  Felice was her friend too and she would carry the sad news.

“I did not expect him to return,” Felice responded, her eyes dry.  “Even without the Blight, his time had come, he said.  He died as he would have wished, fighting.  He said his goodbyes, but knowing how it ended…thank you for that Cecily.  He could be hard, but he was a good man.  Now,” Felice stood and motioned towards the kitchen, “my cook, Solange, has prepared dinner and I ask that you join me.”

Sitting in front of Felice’s hearth after a good meal and better conversation, a glass of soft red Lydes wine in her hand, Felice asked if Cecily knew much about Waking Sea and its bann, Alfstanna, or the Storm Coast?  When Cecily shrugged, Felice began to explain about the two banns and their enduring alliance with Highever and the Couslands, which had culminated, for Eleanor Mac Eanraig, also known as the Seawolf, in marriage to the Cousland heir. 

All of Ferelden’s North thrived on trade, legal or illicit, and both opened opportunities for agents.  Riordan had benefited from Felice’s intelligence and now she offered it to Cecily, who would take up Riordan’s post as Warden-Lieutenant in command of Jader’s warden outpost.  Felice had her own string of agents, more focused on the secrets of trade and her textile business, but they often came across information of a more political nature, which she had relayed to Riordan as well as her contacts in Valence.  Unlike Riordan, Cecily wanted to rise within the warden ranks and, aware that such intelligence would both help her do her job and enhance her position, she gratefully accepted Felice’s offer. 

Cecily knew her superiors would consider her mission to Ferelden a failure.  _Merde!  I consider the mission a failure._   No one expected the stubborn Fereldans to accept her as Warden-Commander, but Montsimmard had expected some sort of compromise, with the Fereldans agreeing to accept Orlesian assistance or even an Orlesian Warden-Constable - particularly a female, who might seem less threatening.  That not even a foothold had been established to undermine the existing Commander would disappoint her superiors.  _Even worse, Nevarrans have the influence Montsimmard wanted._   Cecily frowned.  _Montsimmard should have known Nevarran had joined the Fereldans._   _I should have known._   _I should have talked with Felice before I left.  She deals with them all time.  Better her advice than the arrogant presumptions of Montsimmard or Val Royeaux._

Upon returning to her quarters at the warden compound, she mulled over how she might recoup her loss.  Perhaps keeping Warden Denis’ identity a secret and contacting him with apologies would help?  Correspondence might follow and even innocent correspondence could divulge information.  More difficult would be writing a letter of apology to the mage, Liam Amell.  She decided to pursue both options and offer to exchange information about darkspawn activity along the coast between Jader and the Coastlands, noting that even before the Archdemon rose, the Storm Coast and Three Sisters islands had more than normal darkspawn activity.  Sending the completed letters by messenger, she sat back.  _We_ _’ll see what they say.  I have nothing to lose and much to gain if they agree to communicate._ What Warden Denis did with his letter would also reveal a lot.  Would he keep it secret and respond without telling his Commander or would he reveal her private communication? _I did not ask him to keep it secret.  We_ _’ll see how he reacts._

**9:31 Dragon, August === Vigil** **’s Keep**

Instead of returning home after the Orlesians departed, Warden Colum and a dozen Nevarran wardens, at Liam’s request, established an outpost at Vigil’s Keep to quell the unusual Thaw activity in the surrounding area.  Nate provided space and support, welcoming the help the wardens lent to his efforts to protect his already beleaguered nobles, farm holders and artisans.   A contingent of his former Hrothgar’s Wrath mercenaries also remained to lend support.  The young arl, and his sister in Amaranthine City, had hoped that, with so little Blight damage, Amaranthine might begin recovering from his father’s depredations, but the Thaw foiled his and Delilah’s efforts.

As the darkspawn attacks increased in Solace and August, Liam promised to send Wardens Denis and Anders to join Warden Jowan and the Nevarrans and liaise with Nate, while the rest of the Nevarrans and Fereldans scoured the Bannorn, the Hinterlands and Coastlands for other darkspawn outbreaks.  For some reason, Gwaren remained untouched, but Liam decided to send Eryhn and Pery to scout that city and the Brecilian, just in case.  He left Redcliffe and its surrounding area to a new set of warden eyes led by Warden Petyr.  With a new outpost at Ostagar, Petyr’s wardens could use his links with the Chasind to clear the Hinterlands and edges of the Wilds of darkspawn. A second outpost at Rainesfere would patrol the Frostbacks and West Hills and try to establish good relations with the Avvars.  In the North, Fergus and Alfstanna worked with the wardens there to seal caves and mines and rid their lands of the last vestiges of the Blight.  From Soldier’s Peak, Alistair, now Ser Alun, took his new wardens and warden recruits out to the surrounding areas, collecting vials of darkspawn blood, eradicating marauding bands of ‘spawn and sealing caves.

Nate, focused on clearing Amaranthine of darkspawn, met Denis and Anders riding north on the Pilgrim’s Path just south of the road leading to the Vigil.  Returning from the Wending Wood, where another merchant caravan had been attacked, he admitted to being confused by the evidence he had found there of both darkspawn and elves.  Delilah and Albert heard weekly complaints from Amaranthine merchants of attacks on the Pilgrim’s Path, but, so far, he and his Amaranthine troops had been unable to find the source, even with warden assistance.  As they approached the Vigil, Nate groaned at the sight of smoke rising in a thick, dark column above the trees. 

“Is that-” Denis began, but Nate interrupted. 

“-it’s the Vigil.  There’s nothing else in the area that would provide enough fuel to make that much smoke.”  He raised a mailed fist, made a circle and thrust his arm forward.  His troops urged their mounts into a canter.  As they approached the keep, genlocks rushed towards them across the open farmlands bracketing the road to the main gate.  Half the troop and the two wardens dismounted, while several others, who rode horses accustomed to fighting darkspawn, unsheathed their swords and rode into battle.   Nate, his archers and Anders stayed back and began loosing and casting.  It ended quickly and no more darkspawn came through the gate or over the wall.  The troop remounted and rode into the bailey, where they met and felled more darkspawn fighting the Vigil troops in front of the keep.

A frantic Jowan met them in the range of buildings outside the Keep’s gate.  “We didn’t sense them,” he said to Nate and Denis.  “They fell on the Nevarrans in the hall while they ate the mid-day meal.  Only a few of us, who had just left, survived.  We barricaded the doors to slow them and give us time to alert the rest of the keep, but, Maker,” he swallowed, his eyes unfocused, “Maker, they just tore down the barriers.  I’ve been healing the ones who managed to get out here and giving them the pills, but…there’s so many.”  Jowan’s head snapped up and the men around him jumped at the sound of a great explosion.

“What in the Void-”

“-that’s Dworkin Glavonak,” Nate said with a sigh.  “Voldrik always control him.”  He looked at Denis’ and Anders’ puzzled faces.  “Voldrik is a dwarf I hired to repair and rebuild the Vigil.  Dworkin is his brother and an expert with dwarven explosives.  Since the keep is not collapsing, I’m hoping he merely killed a lot of darkspawn with that blast.”  He looked to the Keep gate.  “We should go see.  Jowan, stay here and keep healing.”  He looked at Denis and Anders.  “That is if-”

“-you’re in charge Arl Nathaniel,” Denis said.  “We’re here to help, not take over.”

They found Colum battling more darkspawn inside the Keep, accompanied by another dwarf.  Oghren waved to Nathaniel, Denis and Anders, yelling it was about time they showed up to join the fun.  Together they battled their way to the roof.  _This seems familiar, only in reverse,_ Nate muttered to himself, recalling his battle to take the Fortress from his father’s troops.   _Was that less than a year ago?_   They crept along a wall towards a voice they heard threatening a prisoner.  The harsh voice said _it has ended just as he foretold_.  The sound of a man screaming followed.  The same voice ordered that someone should _be taking this one gently.  We are wishing no more death than is necessary._   The voice defiantly replying to the threats sounded like Varel, Nate’s Seneschal, who referred to _your kind_ as if the speaker was not human.  A dying defender, in the halls below, had spoken of talking darkspawn, but the wardens had believed the words to be the ramblings of a mind confused by pain. 

“Could they have human help?” Anders whispered.  “Maybe _your kind_ just means humans helping darkspawn?” 

“Hush,” Denis said as the conversation continued.

“You are thinking that you know of our kind, human.  It is understandable, but that will soon be changed.”

“Others will come creature, they will stop you,” Varel promised.

“Our kind?  Creature?”  Denis said.  “Sounds like it’s not human, Anders.  That soldier may have been right.”

“The prisoner’s my Seneschal, Varel,” Nate said.  “Capture the darkspawn if you must, but not at the cost of Varel’s life.”

“Right, no fireballs, then,” Anders murmured.

As the wardens, Nate, and several soldiers rose to attack a well armored darkspawn facing Varel, it spoke.  “We will see,” it said. 

“It is talking,” Anders said, amazed.

“Well, let’s shut it up already,” Oghren snarled.

As they attacked, the talking darkspawn gave orders.  “Capture the wardens, these others may be killed.” 

A second darkspawn, holding its sword to Varel’s throat, fell with an arrow to its own neck, dropping the Seneschal, unharmed, to the stones tiling the roof.  The other darkspawn fell quickly, but the talking ‘spawn who called itself _The Withered,_ fought viciously, felling one soldier and wounding Denis, before a combination of ax strokes, spells and arrows brought him down.   Denis finished him, plunging his sword into the darkspawn’s chest.

Varel rose once the darkspawn all lay dead.  “My lord, wardens, I owe you my life,” Varel said.

“Let’s get you inside,” Nate said as Anders cast a healing spell.  “We’ll need to sweep through the keep and ensure no darkspawn remain and then find out how in the Void they got in.”

“Probably through the patched-up entry to the Deep Roads,” Varel said.  “They came up from the dungeons, through the kitchens and into the hall.  They captured me in the kitchens and brought me up here.”

“Then we’ll need to search and close that hole again,” Nathaniel muttered. 

“Let us search the Deep Roads first,” Denis said.  “We’ll guard the breach in the dungeons while we do and then your builder can repair it permanently.  Maybe we can find the source of all these incursions down there.”

“Agreed,” Nate said, “but we must do it quickly.  Now let’s get inside and find whoever survived.”

**9:31 Dragon, Kingsway  === The Orphanage**

“Maker Save Us,” Nate muttered looking at the still smoldering remnants of a boat amidst the bodies of humans and darkspawn.  “We must have pushed the ‘spawn ahead of us and these poor sots got in their way, but what were they doing here?”  He looked up at the ramparts above them.  “And what is this fortress?”

After learning of the darkspawn attack on the Vigil and the loss of most of the Nevarran wardens, Liam had sent Taina, Daveth and a contingent of wardens to the Vigil where Colum lay wounded, but recovering along with only two surviving Nevarrans.  The Fereldan wardens and the arl’s Amaranthine and Wrath troops had cleared the Vigil, while Anders and Jowan had healed the injured, and then the combined force had pushed through the dungeon and into the Deep Roads, defeating any darkspawn who stood and fought and driving the rest ahead of them.  Nate tasked Voldrik with repairing the great dwarven door they discovered broken in the Roads and with adding a door between the Vigil’s lower dungeons and the Deep Roads to prevent further incursions, but allow wardens access for patrols. 

Now, after weeks of repairs and fighting, they had reached a finger of the Amaranthine Ocean and found more human dead.  Taina waved to the wardens to join her.  Jowan, Denis, Daveth and several other wardens gathered around her.  “Get the darkspawn piled up and burned.  We don’t want Nate’s troops doing that and, Jowan, check Nate’s troopers for any signs of Blight.  I know they all took pills before we left the Vigil, but make sure and then you can blast the darkspawn pile with a fireball.”  Chuckling at Jowan’s grin, Taina left Denis and Daveth to see to the ‘spawn, and walked across the stony ledge to join Nathanial.

“Do you know this place?”

Nate shook his head.  “Had no idea this was here.”  He looked at the cliffs surrounding the fort.  “The Vigil must be over that mountain.  The Deep Road tunnels beneath it.  This must have been a dwarven port, like the one we found on the Storm Coast.  Let’s explore.  There’s a stairway, but let’s check out that door first.  It looks like the darkspawn tried to get in but couldn’t.”

Taina looked at the scoring made by darkspawn claws.  “We’ll need Daveth,” Taina said, “he’s better than I am at these old locks.”

Nate smirked, pulled something from his belt pouch and bent over the lock.  Taina watched Nate, heard a click and the Arl pushed the door open to screams.  The arl and the warden stepped inside to find six women huddled at the far end of a corridor.  A few held wooden staves.  Nate held up his hands.  “You’re safe.  We’ve killed all the darkspawn.”

“Darkspawn?” one said.

“Is that the growling we heard?” another whispered.  “The screams and the growling and the scratching at the door.”

What about the guards?  And the Tevinter?  And Ser Thomas?”  the other women chimed in, challenging his statement.  A blonde stepped forward, still holding her stave and motioning the rest to stay behind her.

“Everyone…everything outside is dead,” Nate said.  “We did see human bodies.  Who were they?  You said a Tevinter?”  He stopped, afraid now to find out who Ser Thomas might be…afraid he knew.

“Why are you here?” Taina added in response to the questions. 

“The guards put us here when the fighting started,” one woman replied.  “Said they’d come back to take us to the ship.” 

“Thomas, the son of the Arl that put us here, and his Tevinter mage was outside,” the blonde said.

Taina looked at Nathaniel and back at the women.  “Thomas Howe?”

“It’s his Orphanage, innit?” the woman snapped.  “He took over after his father, the old Arl, died.  His elves bred the elven brats sent off to Tevinter as slaves.”

Taina and Nathaniel exchanged pained looks.  “He bred slaves?” Nate asked.

“Him and his father before him.  Brought us here as laundresses, cooks and housekeepers, but we soon found out they expected us to provide other services.  The humans couldn’t touch the elves.  Didn’t want no half-bloods, but Tevinters buy human kids too.”  The woman dropped her stave and leaned against the wall, her defiance draining out of her.  “Was breeding his own brat too.  Him and his wife.  Her in the keep.  Some noble wench he brought back with him.  She didn’t come down and meet the likes of us, oh no.  She stayed in her rooms and let her servant wait on her.  We saw her though, standing on the keep’s roof with her big belly. He won’t sell that baby.”

Taina and Nate exchanged another glance.  No women had been among the dead on the shingle at the cave’s entrance, but what would they find in the fort above them?

“We’ll search the fort, but first let’s get you all out of here.  We have food and water.  Are any of you hurt?” Taina asked.  “Can you all walk?”

The doors along the passage opened at the blonde’s command and a dozen more women poured out. 

“We need water and food, but otherwise we can walk,” the blonde said.

“You take them to your soldiers,” Taina said to Nate.  “I’ll take some wardens to search the fort.”

**x==========x**

“Nothing Nate,” Taina reported, after searching the fort.  “It’s been abandoned.  There’s furniture, some supplies, but nothing to show who stayed here.”

“The women say the guards told them to stay in the cells to be safe and that they would come back for them.  For all we know, the guards meant it, but they all died.  There’s a dozen or more human corpses.”  Nate ran his hand over his hair.  “There’s also several crates and casks filled with gold and jewels - treasure.  It must be what the humans were after.”  He looked at the inlet.  “The women spoke of a ship.  After the darkspawn attacked, the ship left.  The wife, this prisoner the women mentioned, and the elves left.  Maker save them if they’re sailing for Tevinter.”  _If what the woman said was true, I have a nephew or niece on that ship._

Taina looked at the chests and went to poke through the remains of the burned boat.  “Someone set this boat aflame, maybe to prevent the humans from escaping.  There’s treasure here too. Partly melted and mixed with the metal supports of a chest.  Wasn’t a lot of fuel, beyond the boat itself, and the strakes must have been wet.  Only the uppers and mast burned.”

The bodies had been removed and laid out on the ledge, at the cave entrance, in preparation for a pyre.  One of the burned bodies from the boat had a darkspawn arrow between its shoulder blades.

“My lord,” one of the Vigil soldiers called.  “I think…this body, it may be your brother, my lord.  His ring.”  The soldier held the glove he had removed.  The body had only partially burned in the shallop, lying, as it had, in the water covering the boat’s hull.

Taina had never seen Nate look more bleak, as he rose to climb out of the boat and join his soldier.  She stayed in the boat and watched as Nate looked at the signet on one of the corpse’s hands.

“Must have been in the water sloshing around the bottom of the boat, my lord, so it didn’t burn.”

“Right,” Nate said softly.  “It’s Thom’s.”

“Could be stolen,” the soldier said.

Nate moved on to the next body, which had burned.  A strip of silk cloth with gold thread running through it remained.  “No, it’s Thom and this is the Tevinter mage who served my father.  The servants at the Arl’s estate in Denerim said this mage, Nicephorus, and Thomas had been at the estate and left together.  They must have come here.”

“With a wife,” Taina said.  “I wonder who he married?”

Nate shook his head.  “I guess we should look for a missing noble woman.”

“Could it…?”

“He must have left before the battle, Taina.  I did ask the women when Thom arrived, but they have no idea what month it is, much less when the Battle of Denerim occurred.  Nor do they know the woman’s name.  From what Delilah says, Thomas would run away from a fight if he could.  I doubt he stayed in Denerim during the battle.”  He looked back at his sergeant.  “Let’s make a pyre.  Those bodies - they need to burn now - even my brother’s.  My sister and I will make a suitable memorial without the body.  There’s nothing more for any of us here.”  Nate walked towards the stairs.  “We’ll make camp for the night up in the fort’s courtyard,” he said, not looking at anyone.  “We’ll scavenge for anything useful in the morning and then head back.  The way should be clear for a few days.”  He looked at Taina for confirmation.

“We’re sensing nothing right now.  We’ll scout ahead and behind, but if the women can move quickly, we should get through safely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	3. Better This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair from Solace through Harvestmere, 9:31 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™.  This chapter contains dialogue from Dragon Age Origins: Awakening
> 
> SPOILERS: I incorporate events from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.
> 
>  

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 3:  Better This Way**

**9:31 Dragon, Solace === Soldier** **’s Peak**

Alistair, known as Ser Alun to everyone at Soldier’s Peak, dismissed the wardens and warden recruits from the sparring ground and headed to his apartment in the keep.  Since Alistair and Zevran had arrived at the Peak, Liam had sent a few recruits each month, selecting the best warriors and light fighters from the many who wanted to join the now famous group of Blight Fighters.  Alistair had snorted when he learned how many volunteered for the wardens after the Blight ended, recalling how few recruits Duncan could find _before_.  Liam had no need to scour jails or the poorest corners of a city for recruits.  The men Liam sent, and most were men, had the martial skills and determination to return the ‘spawn to their lairs and keep them there.  All the new recruits had lost family, friends or occupations to Urthemiel and his Hordes.  Liam only accepted those who had nothing left but their skills and their intelligence; the others he sent back to their families, farms and businesses, telling them to rebuild.

While they sent recruits, neither Liam nor Anders visited the Peak after the Orlesian wardens’ appearance, worrying that they would be followed, revealing the exact location and condition of the supposedly _ruined_ fortress. To any inquiries, the wardens had admitted the existence of the old warden fort, saying it lay somewhere in the high mountains near Highever’s border with Amaranthine and playing down its importance, saying it had been slighted – destroyed by King Arlen after its capture.  They claimed it offered little to the wardens today beyond a training site.  Only the three Regents, Loghain, as General, and Teagan, Alfstanna and Nathaniel knew the Peak had not been destroyed by King Arlen and still stood. 

Alistair, before the battle, and then Liam afterwards, had persuaded the Regents to let the wardens repair and use the great fortress, which stood on Highever lands, while keeping its condition secret.  Both Warden-Commanders assured the Regents that it would not be used against Ferelden or revealed to any foreign wardens, except those from Nevarra. They expressed the hope that, in return, the secret would also be kept from Fereldans.  The wardens proposed running the Peak and the lands surrounding it, primarily mines, as a bann might manage a bannorn.  Levi and his family would conduct trade and re-open some of the mines to create income.  The wardens would hunt and fell lumber for sale and for the keep’s use. 

The Regents had agreed, but only if they formalized the arrangement and made the Warden-Commander the Bann of the territory, with Fergus as the Bann’s lord.  To hide its true status, they agreed to call it the Bann of Warden’s Hill and describe it as a simple fort, set in the midst of ancient mining sites, which the wardens would explore and make safe.  Fergus required a tax of a sovereign a year, payable on 26 Solace, when he would make an annual visit to the fortress.  _It_ _’s Warden-Commander Alistair’s birthday, he had explained.  Without his sacrifice, none of this would matter._   As far as the Landsmeet would know, making the Warden-Commander a Bann made him responsible for a small parcel of land which provided a barracks and training ground for the wardens under Highever’s oversight.  The Regents believed the Landsmeet would accept this arrangement.

The agreement, creating the Bann of Warden’s Hill, had occurred while Alistair recovered in the warden compound where only Liam, Anders, Morrigan and, later, Zevran knew of his survival.  Once he could leave his bed, he had rummaged through the belongings Zevran had brought to his room, searching for the pills Lys had given him. _Was it only a year ago,_ he had wondered?  He had taken one each day to retard the taint’s advance for most of that time; looking at the full pouch, replenished when they had passed through Highever, he considered taking the larger dose and ridding himself of the taint forever.  He had smiled, remembering that Zev had agreed it would improve his disguise were he _taintless_. 

Before he left Denerim, he had taken the larger dose for three weeks.  Each day, he had felt the taint receding, the tingle in his blood becoming less when Liam or Anders joined him, but never quite disappearing.  Both Liam and Anders had confirmed that they could no longer sense him after two weeks passed, but he could still sense them.  Apparently, the taint, even when gone, left some residue which allowed him to sense it in others.  It unnerved him to still have the taint sense, but Zevran had assured him it was a good skill to have, even if he had to mask it.

With Alistair’s arrival at Soldier’s Peak in Bloomingtide, the Drydens continued making improvements to the great keep, while he added a training regimen for the warden recruits Liam sent, thereby making part of the claims about the Peak true.  He refined the design for the armory, sparring ground, and archery butts, as well as, reviewing Levi’s plans and making suggestions for the barracks.  To alleviate boredom, both his own and the recruits, he led them out to search for darkspawn in the old mines.  They eradicated any darkspawn they found, sealed passages and, in the ones deemed safe, the Drydens opened new mining operations. 

In the forests near Drydenton, Levi’s family harvested lumber for building, cutting the trees into planks in the village mill and transporting them through the tunnels to the fortress.  Other Drydens remained in Drydenton to manage the charcoal kilns and the coppice which grew the trees they burned.  Levi’s scouts maintained an outpost in the old village, where guides met visitors and recruits for the trek through the tunnels.  The _Warden_ _’s Rest_ continued to serve travelers on the forest track which paralleled the North Road, regardless of destination.  Scouts and wardens patrolled the approaches to the tunnels, sending the uninvited back to track or the North Road, itself.     

First Alistair, and now Liam, insisted that Soldier’s Peak must support itself.  Ferelden needed to rebuild, not support the wardens, no matter what service they provided. That meant generating income to buy food and supplies they could not provide for themselves.  As summer turned into autumn, the wardens, recruits and Drydens formed a close-knit unit bent on keeping Soldier’s Peak safe and well supplied.  Levi’s family provided labor, goods, food, and a cut of their profits in return for a safe place to live and work.  So far, the arrangement had proven mutually beneficial.  

Focusing on training the new wardens and recruits had taken Alistair’s mind off himself, so Liam, unsurprisingly, had been right telling him to keep busy.  Zevran helped too.  They shared an apartment, each with their own small bedroom adjoining the common room.  Just finding Zev lounging before the small hearth or sharpening his blades when he returned from training made Alistair almost feel at home.  It was not the life he had hoped for, but it would do for now. 

Late in August a bird arrived with a letter telling Alistair of the attack on the Vigil and incursions elsewhere.  In the letter, Liam also reported a possible darkspawn sighting in the Knotwood Hills, not far from Soldier’s Peak. From the Peak, Liam explained, Alistair and his patrol could reach an old mine more quickly than any other wardens.   Alistair could hear Liam’s sarcasm across the miles, when the Warden-Commander proposed patrolling the hills south of the Peak as a cure for Alistair’s complaints about boredom.  Alistair had chuckled, but the brief amusement had passed and the melancholy he had been fighting returned, as he wished Liam was addressing him in person, not from Denerim.  As much as he valued Zevran’s company, it did not replace the camaraderie of his other Blight Companions, much less the ache he still felt even when he was not thinking about Lys.

**9:31 Dragon, Kingsway === Kal** **’Hirol**

Alistair and Zevran had made it a point to learn the route through the tunnels so, even without the Drydens’ help, Alistair led the Knotwood Hills patrol to the outside quickly.   Zevran had, reluctantly, remained at the Peak at Alistair’s insistence.  Despite the supply of Blight pills, Alistair argued that Zev had exposed himself to enough ‘spawn and he left the elf to supervise the completion of the armory, apothecary and herb garden.  While not a gardener, Zev knew potions and poisons and which plants should be cultivated, while one of Levi’s cousins knew how and where to plant.  Now, emerging onto the track leading to Drydenton, Alistair felt very alone, despite the six new wardens and two warden recruits surrounding him.  He sighed and led the seven fighters and one mage towards the inn, at Drydenton, where they would spend the night, before moving on to investigate the darkspawn incursion.

After leaving Drydenton the next morning, no one sensed darkspawn until the wardens had traveled into the second range of the Knotwood Hills, well south of the North Road.   As they walked, the terrain grew dryer and the vegetation more sparse, hamlets and farmholds dwindled, and even evidence of sheep herding, in the form of droppings, disappeared.  One warden noted the hawks floating high above them and observed that they might set snares for smaller animals once they camped.  Wiping the sweat from his brow, Alistair tied a rag around his head to stop the perspiration from dripping into his eyes, and agreed fresh rabbit or the like, roasting on a spit that night, would be welcome.  He took a sip from his water skin.  _Glad it_ _’s Kingsway.  Justinian would be unbearable._   Fortunately, water, in the form of small, sluggish streams and the occasional spring, appeared in their path several times, allowing them to keep their water skins full.

Alistair felt the gentle tug of darkspawn during the morning of the third day.  From the top of a ridge, they saw the cleft in the earth Liam’s message had described.  Descending towards the old mine works, they halted periodically at Alistair’s signal to look for evidence of darkspawn patrols.  As they got closer, Alistair raised his hand, again halting the six wardens and two recruits.  He turned and asked the wardens what they felt, not wanting to divulge his own latent sensing ability to those who believed he was not a warden. His wardens, new to the taint and unsure of their sensing, looked at one another to confirm what they felt.  The mage, Adeliza, spoke first, telling Alistair she sensed taint and the others agreed, but finding no other evidence of darkspawn above ground, they used the abandoned mine’s rickety wooden platforms and stairways to descend into its depths, the pull of taint growing stronger as they moved.  Suddenly the sounds of battle rose.

“Darkspawn,” one of the new wardens shouted.

Alistair halted his troop again.  “Don’t rush in,” he ordered.  “Let’s see what’s happening and how many there are.”  He smiled at the mage from the Collective, whom Liam had rescued from under the nose of the Chantry.  Adeliza had herbal skills and a bit of healing, but her primal spells outdid Morrigan.  “Adeliza, stay back and cast, don’t get in the middle of the fight.”

“And don’t freeze us,” another warden muttered.

“I did that _once_!  And anyway, I’ve learned,” the mage replied.  “I’ll only burn you, not freeze you.”

Alistair chuckled.  “That’s reassuring, but, please, freeze me if you set me on fire.”

The troops laughed nervously.  “Yes, please put us out!” they chorused.

“Now, let’s go slowly, keep your eyes on me, and follow my orders.”

“Ser,” they said.

The group moved carefully forward, watching the opening at the end of the passage.

“Doesn’t sound like too many,” one of the warden recruits whispered.  As he spoke a group of darkspawn loped past, dragging a struggling dwarf behind them.

Alistair yelled, “Attack!”

The wardens rushed forward engaging the darkspawn.  Several hurlocks fell under warden blades, a few ran, and the dwarf managed to pull free and join the fight. 

“A timely arrival.” she said, as the last hurlock collapsed.  “You’re wardens?”

“We are,” Alistair said.  “Well, not me, but most of us.  We received reports of darkspawn in this area.  Accurate ones, apparently.” 

“Too accurate,” the dwarf replied.  “The thaig below here, Kal’Hirol…it’s crawling with them.”

He looked at her armor.  “You’re Legion? I’m Alun, by the way.”

“Sigrun, and yes my battalion came here through the Deep Roads to investigate the old thaig, perhaps to reclaim it, but I may be the only one left.”  She stopped.  “How do you know about the Legion?”

“I knew the wardens who visited Orzammar just before the Blight.  Heard their stories.  I fought the Blight here,” Alistair said, using a variation of the speech he had made up to explain his experience.

The dwarf squinted, looking down, away from the light that penetrated the canyon like sides of the mine.  “I ran to the surface to escape the attack.  The others, the darkspawn overwhelmed them.”  She looked back to the cave behind her.  “I should have stayed.”

“Nothing wrong with living to fight another day, Sigrun,” one of the new wardens said.

“Nothing wrong with dying fighting the ‘spawn either.”  She shaded her eyes, looking up into the sliver of blue sky above the cleft. 

“First time on the surface?”

Sigrun nodded.  “I’m going back.  Are you-”

“We’re heading down into the thaig.  Do you want to join us?”

“I do.  The darkspawn down there…they’re odd.  My commander believed they had breeders down there.  They need to die.”

“Broodmothers?”

Sigrun’s eyes narrowed.  “You know what they are?  Most cloudheads don’t.”

“I know.” Alistair’s lips pressed together in a grim line.  “We need to end them.”

**x==========x**

Adeliza cast a final healing spell on one of the new recruits whose name she could not recall.  The other wardens sat silently around a small fire on the ridge above the cleft.  Both recruits had vials of darkspawn blood and more fighting experience against darkspawn than many wardens accumulated in a lifetime.  Adeliza passed out the pills Alistair had provided to the two recruits and the dwarf. 

Sigrun had returned to the surface with the wardens after a week spent in the thaig, where they saw opposing groups of darkspawn fighting each other.  More troubling, some of the darkspawn spoke.  Alistair had let the darkspawn fight, leaving only the victorious ‘spawn for the wardens to defeat, and had brushed off comments from his troop about the talking hurlocks.  They had seen the ghosts of dwarves, smith caste and others, who had once defended their Thaig against earlier darkspawn incursions with no help from warrior caste armies until they were overcome.  Alistair used the excuse of thin Veils and too much death to explain the visions, the strange darkspawn _childer_ , and talking darkspawn. He wanted Liam’s input before he speculated any further on what they had experienced.

With the broodmothers destroyed, the strange _childer_ killed, and the remaining darkspawn defeated, Alistair brought his small band back to the surface, setting up camp to allow his now-experienced wardens and recruits time to heal and recover.  Sigrun, the only surviving member of her Legion battalion, joined them after Alistair offered her a choice: remain in the Roads and hope to find another Legion patrol or join the wardens and engage in the same fight, but from the surface.  After much thought, as they trekked back towards the surface, Sigrun chose the wardens.  Alistair handed her a vial of darkspawn blood. 

“I hoped you would chose us.  Also hoping we don’t have the chance to gather any more blood today.  You’ll need this for your Joining ceremony.” 

Sigrun took the vial.  “It’s risky, huh?”  Seeing his eyebrows raise, she added, “The other recruits mentioned it.  Saves you the trouble of telling me.”

He shook his head, frowning.  “It is.  You should make an informed choice.  You can still change your mind.”

“No risk to a dead person.”  She grinned at Alistair’s surprised look.  “Legion, remember?”  He nodded as she put the vial in her pack.  “It’s better this way.  I died when I joined the Legion and I should have died with my brothers and sisters the other day.  What’s one more death?”

**x==========x**

Returning to Drydenton and the _Warden-Commander_ _’s Arms_ , Alistair informed his wardens that they would hold a Joining ceremony here, rather than waiting to return to the Peak.  Avernus had found a way to preserve a small amount of prepared potion for Alistair to carry with him. He also recommended using the collected darkspawn blood as soon as possible to ensure the improved potion worked.  The two warden recruits and Sigrun had their vials of darkspawn blood and Alistair had the new Joining potion; he saw no reason to wait.

Since all the wardens had been trained by the man they called Ser Alun, and he had overseen their Joining, none thought it odd that a non-warden should administer the potion.  Some wondered why Ser Alun was not a warden, but, given his often-taciturn attitude and senior status, none asked.  The wardens gathered in one of the large private rooms of the inn, forming a half circle around the three recruits.  Alistair stood in front of them, holding a chalice. 

Seeing the wardens’ reluctance to meet the eyes of the recruits, Sigrun wondered if she had made the right choice.  She had run from battle while her Legion companions fought and died, but now she faced real death by choice, not the figurative death one achieved when joining the Legion.  She watched the other two recruits drink from the chalice, collapse, and survive, and then Ser Alun turned and offered the chalice to her.  She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders, reached for the vessel and drank.  Suppressing her gag reflex, she swallowed the vile brew and swayed before collapsing.  Only partially conscious, she heard Alun say _she lives,_ as he had for the other recruits, and felt herself lifted and carried to an already made up bed.  A warden would sit by each of the recruits through the night as they slept.  The remaining wardens got up early and helped the inn’s cook prepare a huge breakfast.

“So, Darkspawn do talk.  We didn’t imagine it in Kal’Hirol?” Sigrun asked when she awoke to find Ser Alun sitting by her bed. 

“Why would you ask?”  Ser Alun replied. 

“I dreamed of a talking darkspawn leading an attack on a farmhold.”

The other two new wardens looked at Sigrun, then echoed her story.  They too had dreamed of talking darkspawn and attacks.  Alistair sighed, but refrained from commenting about seeing an Archdemon at his Joining.  _In truth, I_ _’m not sure which is more terrifying.  Talking darkspawn mean darkspawn who can think without the Archdemon.  If they can control the ‘spawns hive mind should we expect a Blight without the Archdemon?_  Instead, he confirmed that reports had come in about a talking darkspawn, but that the one the wardens had encountered at the Vigil had been killed, as had any they had met in Kal Hi’rol. He promised to let them know if any more news came from Denerim and suggested the new wardens and the three accompanying them join the others in the common room for breakfast.  He added that they would spend the day in Drydenton doing some maintenance around the inn and return to the Peak the next day.  A day spent on light work would let him observe the new wardens, allow time for recovery, and ensure none had suffered any other effects of the Joining.  Only one recruit had died since they began using the new Joining potion, and that recruit had already suffered from Blight sickness, but Alistair still worried there might be unanticipated effects after only a few months use. 

No sooner had they begun chopping wood, removing the soiled straw mats from the inn’s floors, and preparing new straw mats to replace them, while the inn’s own staff prepared fresh herbs to strew underfoot, than heads started snapping up and his own blood, untainted though it was, began to tingle.  One of the wardens said, “I sense them.”

Relieved that someone had spoken, so he wouldn’t have to explain his order, he shouted, “Get your weapons.”  He and most others wore their leathers so they only needed to buckle sword belts, grab shields, don bracers, quivers, and gloves, and string bows.  He herded the inn’s owner, cook, servants, and housekeeper into the windowless scullery next to the large kitchen and shut the door, hoping they would follow instructions and bar it from the inside.

His warrior and light fighting wardens he placed in front of the single door into the stables, with the mage and archers in the open windows of the loft above them.  They had a steep hillside at their back behind the stable, leaving the darkspawn no chance to flank them or attack from behind.  No sooner had they taken positions than the darkspawn struck.

“Take out the emissaries first,” he yelled, searching with his templar sense for the telltale signs of mana.  When none appeared, he felt relieved, but only for a moment, as an ogre stomped out of the trees towards his troop.  “Adeliza,” he bellowed, calling on the mage, “focus on the ogre.  Archers, take out its eyes. The rest of you, focus on the other darkspawn.”  As he spoke, he sidled along the stable wall, hoping to get behind the ogre, sever a knee or ankle muscle and bring it down.  Before he could reach the ogre, he saw Sigrun appear out of nowhere and slice across the ogre’s left ankle, eliciting a roar as the ogre tried to spin and swipe at the nimble dwarf.  Its leg collapsing under it, the ogre fell, as Sigrun rolled away to her right, stood, and sliced through the monster’s right ankle.  Unable to stand, the ogre’s arms still posed a threat as it grasped and flailed at anyone who approached.  Waving Sigrun off, Ser Alun circled the beast, staying out of reach, until he stood above the head which lurched from side-to-side trying to see anything that threatened it.  Out of its sight, Ser Alun moved forward and plunged his blade into the ogre’s eye socket when the chance arose.  The ogre lay still.  The other wardens soon brought the genlocks and hurlocks down, but the two new wardens, struggling with two shrieks, fought on.  Adeliza sent a lightening blast that jumped from one shriek to another, while Sigrun, again appearing out of nowhere, stabbed one in the neck while the other wardens thrust their blades into the second shriek’s abdomen.  Both fell.  Sigrun sliced each across the neck, just to make sure they died.

“Where did they come from?” one warden asked.  “It seemed like I felt nothing and then the awareness came over me at strength.  In the mine it crept up, getting stronger as they approached.”

Alistair pondered how to answer.  “I’m told,” he said, “by experienced wardens, that the ground can hide their approach.  If they come from underground you may not sense them until they emerge.  We should look for a cave in the area and, if it connects to the Deep Roads, we should seal it.”

In fact, they found a cave the next day, postponing their return to the Peak to find and seal it against future incursions so near to the Dryden village.  One warden suggested they should search for more caves; Ser Alun assured him they would set up patrols to do just that, but, first, they would return to Soldier’s Peak, so he could file a report, via bird, to the Warden-Commander, and re-supply before setting out on any further patrols.

The more he observed her the more Sigrun reminded Alistair of Taina.  Both were casteless and rogues, but it was more than that.  Sigrun, from her experiences as a Legionnaire, also had natural instincts that made her a good leader.  He would put her in charge of one of the patrols seeking out other darkspawn lairs.  As they marched back through the tunnels, he watched her make note of their route; he had no doubt she would find her way in and out without guides on her first trip.  She still had her stone sense and would not lose it if he could help it.

**x==========x**

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Alistair asked Levi, his voice rising.  “And what assassins?  How could an assassin even get in here?”

The Dryden family leader shook his head as he sat with Alistair on the steps leading up to the Keep’s entrance.  “The assassin came in with one of our caravans.  He had worked with us for years.  How could we know he was a Crow?  Zevran said someone called Master Ignacio had agents all over Ferelden, some he didn’t use for years like this one.  Zevran caught him and killed him, but he said he would only endanger us… _you_ …and left to go to Antiva and, as he said, _settle this matter_.  He left a note for you.”  Levi handed him a sealed parchment with only the letter ‘A’ on it.

Alistair took the note and retreated to his room, which seemed empty without Zevran lounging by the hearth, warming himself against the chill Fereldan winds.  He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

_Caro,_

_I must settle the charges against me by appealing to my own House Arainai.  I can convince them Ignacio should never have offered me the contract, given that a Cousland was involved, but that will only clear my name for now_ _…and possibly only with my House and its allies.  As First Talon of the Crows, the other Houses should leave me alone if House Arainai demands it, but one can never be sure with Crows.  I hope my House will act in my favor, that all will be forgotten and, one day, if all goes well, I can return to you._

_The contract remains a problem, caro.  Nothing my house does will cancel the contract itself.  Ignacio_ _’s House will believe the contract against you and Liam in effect, unless someone cancels it.  Arl Nathaniel Howe can do that as Arl Rendon’s heir.  Perhaps Liam can ask him, yes?  It would not hurt if Lady Delilah supports her brother.  That will solve one problem, keeping you and Liam safe._

_I must stay away for a time, my friend, for I fear, since the attack came at Soldier_ _’s Peak, that some will wonder why I was there and wonder about the mercenary I befriended.  They might think you live.  Silly, yes?  You look quite dead to me, but I must convince any who disbelieve in your death that they are mistaken.  Then I must stay away from you - at least until I am certain no one follows me in hopes of finding you.  As I mentioned…if all goes well, we will see each other again._

_I am sorry to leave so abruptly, but others will follow if I remain.  Besides, I hate goodbyes.  So messy.  Take care my friend.  I shall miss you._

_Z._

Alistair felt his eyes fill and he brushed his knuckles across them.  His last friend, his last contact with…everything.  _Dead.  I am dead.  No one can approach me without revealing my secret and putting themselves in danger._ He had not thought he could feel so desolate, but he found Zev’s departure left another hollow in what was left of his heart.  He tossed the parchment onto the coals and watched it crumple and burn.

Sitting at dinner that night, he did not notice Sigrun watching him.  The dwarf recognized his expression.  She had seen it in the eyes of dwarves capitulating to Carta demands or joining the Legion, having lost everything.  She wondered what losses Ser Alun had experienced.  

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere === Soldier** **’s Peak**

Morrigan had visited the Peak twice since Alistair arrived.  Both times she had shape-shifted and flown to Avernus’ tower, keeping her visit invisible to the Drydens.   In August, she had come to stay, arriving in human form as she feared that shape-shifting might harm the child and desiring to hide her pregnancy from prying eyes, including her mother’s.  Now, on an unusual warm day in Harvestmere, Morrigan walked along the rampart which joined the main building at Soldier’s Peak with Avernus’ tower.  The man she approached, leaning over the parapet to stare into the dense forest, did not turn towards her.  “What now, Morrigan?”  he asked.  Usually the mage did not join him on the ramparts.  They had met here only a few times, the last being in August, but he knew she observed him.  He could feel her mana when she peered out of the tower’s window.

“You’ve come here every day since the…since Zevran left.”

“It’s quiet.  Except for the servants who bring Avernus’ food, no one crosses this part of the battlements.”

“But you relish the company of others.”  Her brow wrinkled, as she regarded him.

He met that look, and then raised his shoulders and sighed.  “Alistair enjoyed the company of others.  Alun does not.  I’m a ghost, Morrigan. Everything I say about myself is a story.  Nothing is true, except my skills.  When I train, I can relax because everything I do during training is true, but afterwards, it’s all a lie.  Ser Alun spends his time alone, either ordering supplies, exploring the depths of the dungeons and the Deep Roads portal, tending to armor, or hiding here, where no one else comes.”

Morrigan chuckled then.  “Except me.”

One side of Alistair’s mouth quirked up as his eyebrows raised.  “You know who I am.  I can be me.  Odder things may have happened, but not often.  I won’t reject your company,” he said quietly and nodded towards her belly.  “You’re feeling well?”

“Yes, but I, oddly, agree with you, it does get lonely.  Even I find this place…isolating.  T’is difficult to wander the woods here, as I did in the Wilds.  I can no longer shape-shift - t’would endanger the child.”  She rubbed the bulge beneath the full-length gown she wore.  “He has become quite active.  I look forward to the birth, when Liam will join me.”

“That’s still the plan?” Alistair asked, recalling their conversation two months ago after he had discovered Morrigan in Avernus’ tower with no plans to leave until after her child’s birth.  They had spoken then, just before the bird had arrived from Liam ordering him to Kal’Hirol and telling him of the talking darkspawn in Amaranthine.

_“Avernus as mid-wife,” he had quipped, chuckling, when Morrigan explained her plans.  She had sniffed, saying that Anders and Liam would visit the Peak just before her time and stay until the baby came. A slight frown had formed and he had asked why they wouldn’t come sooner._

_“If you must know, darkspawn still roam Amaranthine.  Taina has gone to Vigil’s Keep to set up a post and find the source, with Arl Howe’s support.”_

_“Arl…ah, Nathaniel.”_

_“T’is his title, is it not?”_

_“Just hard to get used to.  There’s a period called the Thaw after every Blight,” Alistair added, addressing her other comment.  “Is this different?  Does Liam even know?”_

_“T’is different, or so Liam thinks.  A greater number of darkspawn and…they attacked the Vigil, killing many of the Nevarran wardens Liam had sent there to help Nathaniel.  Anders and Denis arrived in time to drive them off, but many died and much damage was done.  Anders said one darkspawn spoke to them.”_

_“Spoke?  As in used words?” Alistair said._

_“Usually speaking involves words, Alistair.”_

_“Well, one could speak gibberish, you know, ooglabootia ringalingadingdong.”_

_Morrigan rubbed her temple._ _“Sometimes I think you have become tolerable and then-”_

_Alistair laughed._ _“-Morrigan, you have made my day.  I haven’t laughed in weeks.”_

_“I am so pleased to have amused you.”_

Upon his return from Kal’Hirol, he had not visited Avernus’ tower, being preoccupied with sending out patrols to search for roving darkspawn bands, sealing their lairs, and, when she returned from her patrols, exploring the dungeons and Deep Roads access with Sigrun.  Thanks to her experience in the Legion, the former Legionnaire had worked with Mikhael Dryden to repair the damaged dwarven door to the Deep Roads so it closed and locked.  In the dungeons themselves, they found old prison cells, what might have been a torture chamber ( _whatever it takes,_ he had thought, recalling the ghostly battle between Sophia Dryden’s wardens and King Arlen’s troops), old documents, supplies - including runes, what appeared to be a container of Archdemon blood, lyrium dust, potions, and enchanted armor and weapons.   He also had Sigrun evaluate the tunnel to the sea; he did not want it collapsing on Levi’s family as they brought in goods from the small dock at the tunnel’s end.   

Levi had encouraged him to bring in more supplies by sea from Amaranthine, Higheverport and, sometimes, Kirkwall.  Levi’s own contacts sailed to the tiny harbor from Fereldan ports, but, at Levi’s suggestion, Alistair had begun a correspondence with a dwarf in Kirkwall who could supply him with almost anything he required, particularly things which Levi could not provide, including lyrium for the warden mages.  According to Levi, the dwarf had contacts with a whole network of dwarven merchants throughout the Marches; even more important, while a bit expensive, he could be discreet.  The ships he sent directly from Kirkwall would never reveal their destinations.  _Or their passengers,_ he thought.

“Alistair!” Morrigan’s sharp tone brought him back to the present.  “Liam mentioned the talking darkspawn you met in Kal’Hirol.  He said that more had appeared in Amaranthine.”

“In my last report, I told him we’d found no further talking darkspawn. It’s troubling that he has,” he said as she crossed her arms, “but I’ve thought of something else since.”

“How incredible,” Morrigan said.

“Right - me thinking.  Anyway, tell him he should write to Fiona and ask her about talking darkspawn.  She met one once.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I shall tell him but, why won’t you?”

“How does Ser Alun know Fiona?  Or that he should ask her?  My reports are not secret.”

“Ah, of course.  I shall let him know.”  She looked at the young man, a long scar running from his temple, just above his left ear, down along his left jaw. He had a scruffy beard and had let his reddish blond hair grow back into the short style he had worn at Ostagar, but she suspected many of his companions from that day would still not recognize him.  He had lost all his boyishness.  Fine wrinkles had formed around his eyes, which she realized looked more gray than the hazel she remembered.  She recalled Mel telling her that they changed color with his moods and that gray meant angry or upset.  His once ready grin rarely appeared.

“You must miss Liam,” Alistair said, changing the subject.  “And he, you.”

“I do miss his company, although I’ve been busy with my own research and helping Avernus.”

“Your research?”

“In the library at night when no one else is there.”  She smoothed her hand over her belly and stared at Alistair.

“What?  Food on in my beard?  I thought I cleaned it before I came out.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed.  “I thought to explain to you why you live.  Liam and I thought you should know.”

“Oh? Something you did, I assume?”

“Yes, and I would think you would be grateful.”  When he said nothing, she continued.  “T’was an ancient ritual, performed just before the Archdemon’s death.”

“You knew when the Archdemon would die?”

“Not exactly.  I believed you, Liam and your allies would prevail.  We performed-”

“-we?  Liam?” His voice rose slightly.  “Liam agreed to this?”

”To save your life, or the life of whomever killed the Archdemon, yes, he agreed,” she said, re-crossing her arms.

“And what did you get?” he said, not quite glaring at the witch.

“We got a child, conceived of the ritual and ready to accept the Old God, Urthemiel’s, untainted soul.”

“Your child is an Old God?”

“No.  Our child will carry the soul of Urthemiel.”  She frowned.  “Beyond that, there are things I do not know or understand, hence the research.”

He laughed.  “Something _you_ admit not understanding! Your mother sent you with us to capture an Old God.”  He made it a statement.  “She didn’t explain why or what she planned, did she?”

“She did send me, but she will NOT have my… _our_ son.  T’is why I am here.  Why I will conceal myself and Kieran-”

“-Kieran?  You know it’s a boy?”

“Yes, and we will make sure my mother does not find us.”

“So, this research…it’s about an old god child?”

She had glared, but conceded that she did seek to know more before the child was born, warning him not to reveal what she had confided.  Liam believed Alistair should understand why he lived, that it would help and assure him that, indeed, the Archdemon, Urthemiel, had died. 

“Liam wanted you to know.”  She pulled her cape around her folding her arms to hold it in place and watched as Alistair turned and stared out over the forest.  A hawk screeched above them.  He seemed to have forgotten her.    “Alistair.” 

“Sorry, Morrigan, my mind drifted.”

“T’is unfortunate I am such dull company, then.”

“It’s not you, Morrigan, it’s me.  I’m a dead man and I look back to times when I thought myself alive.  I should have died killing that beast.  I’m grateful, or should be, but-”

“-you miss the elf.”

“He has a name.  Zevran.  And yes, I miss him.”  He shut his eyes and ran a hand through his short hair.  “And Lys.”

“I miss her too,” Morrigan said softly.  “I never had a friend before.”

They leaned on the bridge’s rampart, staring silently into the dark forest for a long time before Morrigan spoke again.  “You once asked me what I would do if my mother died.”

“You said you would laugh.”

“And I would, but, I understand now why you would ask such a question.  I did not laugh when I learned of Mel’s death.  I searched, Alistair, because I did not believe it.  I flew into every space I could find.  I did not find any sign her or Kai.  I would like to think that means they live somewhere, but I believe the harsh truth is that they are dead.”

“I think so too, Morrigan.  I’d be out there searching, if I thought otherwise.”  His laugh this time sounded more like a bark.  “I’ve never had to live without hope.  Even when the Chantry held me prisoner, I had this tiny spark of hope.  I don’t anymore.  Lyssie’s gone, I have no friends, no family, at least none who know I’m alive or can acknowledge me; I can no longer be a warden…there’s nothing.”  He saw her frown deepening.  “Oh, don’t fret, as if you would.”  His smiled, or grimaced.  “I’m not doing away with myself…I’m neither brave or cowardly enough to do that.  I’m here, so don’t send a bird to Liam.  I just don’t feel…useful.”

“T’is reassuring to know that.  Liam would…he regrets leaving you alone, but-”

“-yeah, it’s dangerous for him to come here and maybe lead the Orlesians to the stronghold or me.  I get it, Morrigan.”

“If you wish to meet here, I would converse with you-”

“-don’t Morrigan.  This meeting is one thing, but if you promised to meet me for Liam or Lys’ sake - you’d be bristling with unspent lightening spells in no time.”

Morrigan bit her lip to stop a smile.  “Most likely, Alistair.  You do annoy.”

“Thanks,” he said.  “I aim to please.  Give Liam my best next time you write.  I’ve stopped writing.  I’m leaving it to Levi or Sigrun, now.  Safer.”

“You will see him in two months.”

“Right.  I’ll look forward to it.”  He walked back to the keep, away from Morrigan and Avernus’ tower.  Morrigan shut her eyes to keep back tears, a new sensation for her, and laid a hand on her belly. _You almost had a friend, Kieran, but that baby died without ever seeing this world._ She watched Alistair enter the keep. _He never knew._ She _never knew.  Our babies would have been born within weeks of each other.  T_ _’is better this way, for him not to know, but still sad._

Morrigan made her way back, leaning forward against the wind which had risen as they talked.  She recalled placing herself as close to the Archdemon as possible during the battle, pleased that Alistair had sent Mel to a ballista, well away from the beast.   Her own pregnancy was the newer of the two, so the new life in her should attract the Old God’s soul, but better, she had believed, that Mel remain farther away.  _Farther away, not dead, although, before he collapsed, Zevran had seemed sure both Kai and Mel had survived the battle._   _The darkspawn fled, they did not fight their way out._   _T_ _’is unlikely the women had to fight again.  Zevran said Mel had used the ashes on Kai, but that they both breathed.  How could they disappear with no trace?”_ The witch shook her head as she pulled open the door to the blood mage’s tower.  _We searched and found nothing.  Leave it.  People disappear in battle, or so the histories tell us._

**x _==========_ x **

_It_ _’s better this way,_ Alistair thought as he hurried down the tunnel to the dock where the _Chained Maiden,_ a small galley out of Kirkwall, would arrive that night with no cargo to deliver.  No one save Alistair knew it would dock.  Alistair had written to the dwarf in Kirkwall requesting that a galley dock in secret on Satinalia Eve to load a special cargo.  Load the two chests and an oddly sized crate waiting on the dock and deliver it to a certain dwarf at the Hanged Man in Kirkwall, had been the only instructions he provided.  No one in the Keep would notice his absence for a day or more.  He always left celebrations early. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine.  I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	4. Despite the Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere in Ferelden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 4:  Despite the Pain**

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere === Denerim**

Eleanor hesitated in the doorway of Fergus’ study, frowning as she watched her son work his way through his account ledger.  Under Philippa’s oversight recovery continued in Highever, allowing Fergus and Eleanor to spend time at Highever House.  With the teyrnir safe, she knew his hunched shoulders and clenched jaw came from anger and grief, not financial worries.  Without something to fight, Fergus had retreated into himself, unable to recover from losing his father, wife, son and, finally, his sister.  Nothing she or his friends said or did seemed to relieve his anguish.  Unsure how to converse with the grim, solitary man he had become, she knocked on the door jamb and, when he looked up, annoyed, quickly relayed the request that he join Anora and Leonas that afternoon at the Palace.  She did not mention that Tilda had prepared a meal.  He often took his meals alone in the study, while she joined friends or ate alone in her solar.  Six months since the Final Battle and Fergus remained remote, despite their victory.  Walking back to her own rooms, memories rushed through her mind.

Since the end of the Blight, Fergus had divided his time between Highever and Denerim, seeing to the rebuilding of the teyrnir, with Philippa’s help, and the ruling of the country with Anora and Teyrn Leonas Bryland.  Revitalizing mining and forestry and Highever’s trade with the Marches and Nevarra had taken much of his time.  The wardens had assisted, sealing darkspawn tunnels and clearing any infested mines.  Eleanor had done what she could, traveling with him to work on revitalizing trade and the textile industry, visiting farmholds and seeing to the distribution of not just food, but seeds, livestock, and raw materials to ensure farmers, shepherds and artisans could rebuild.  In Denerim, she visited Anora with Dame Reginalda, and tried to enjoy the little queen, despite mourning her own husband, grandson, good-daughter and daughter. 

She often wondered how others had missed Rendon Howe’s perfidy, until she recalled her own unspoken questions and silence about so many things.  She had suppressed her own misgivings about Howe, Melysande’s Orlesian marriage, Bryce’s too trusting nature…so many regrets and might-have-beens.  Fergus, she realized, must feel the same, but, unlike her, he refused to bend and reach out to those who cared about him.  Mother and son continued to live together, in silence, working towards the same goals and doing their duty, but not sharing their pain.

Forgiving Loghain, once her good friend, proved Eleanor’s greatest challenge.  While she understood the influence of Rendon’s Howe’s blood mages, she also understood they magnified and played upon Loghain’s own beliefs and biases.  She could not abandon the conviction that Loghain might have stopped Howe; Loghain, carrying his own burden of guilt, would agree with Eleanor’s assessment, had they discussed it, but he avoided Denerim, much as he had after Maric and Rowan wed. 

Dame Reginalda, who had taken to visiting with the Arl of Gwaren on his rare trips to the capital, finally, in August, persuaded Eleanor to join them, saying the Arl could use Eleanor’s advice and contacts with House Haris as he tried to build Gwaren economy and provide help to the rest of Ferelden.  Despite the awkwardness, and with Reginalda as a buffer, the former Teyrn and dowager Teyrna had managed, to revive a ghost of their old friendship, by sticking to business and avoiding painful, personal topics – a new skill Eleanor sometimes regretted acquiring.

Fergus, for reasons she did not understand, had less trouble resuming his friendship with Loghain.  The General had to work with the Regents, but Fergus often joined the former Teyrn, now Arl of Gwaren, for meals at Gwaren House.   Teyrn Bryland had his own Denerim estate and had generously allowed the former teyrn to keep the Gwaren Denerim estate. 

Leonas and Loghain had never been close, but now, as Teyrn and Arl, they got along well enough.  Loghain had spent most of the summer in Gwaren re-establishing himself as Arl and assessing the state of the Arling since the end of the Blight.  At Teyrn Bryland’s request, he had ridden over the lands north and east of the city with Wardens Eryhn and Pery, looking for darkspawn activity and checking on the mines and logging sites at the edge of the Brecilian Forest.  Finding little evidence of darkspawn, in Solace he left the two wardens in Gwaren to traverse the Brecilian Passage, meeting Leonas and Fergus in South Reach.  There he reported his findings to his liege-lord, Teyrn Bryland, and then continued west with Fergus, in his role as General of Ferelden, to survey the lands most affected by the Blight.

Loghain and Fergus, riding west with a company of Fereldan troops and several wardens, had traveled through what had been Lothering, to Ostagar.  On route, they found a huge swath of land surrounding the Imperial Highway, from north of Lothering to the Wilds, lying barren and abandoned, with not a blade of green grass or trickle of untainted water.  Moving beyond Ostagar, they entered the Wilds and set up camp beside a pond unaffected by the Blight.

“Our scouts find no one within miles, Fergus.  How long before these Chasind friends of yours join us?”

“Grumbling already, Loghain? They’ll be here within a day.”

The General snorted.

The next day, as the sun rose towards its zenith, Einarr, Shaman Æsa, and group of Aesole warriors joined them.  Bowing his head to the Shaman, Loghain thanked her for saving Fergus’ life.  “He is important to Ferelden and to me, as a friend.  I also bring you greetings from Peryndel and Eryhn.  They now keep watch in my home of Gwaren,” Loghain added.

“It pleases me that they live, lord Loghain,” Æsa replied.  “I met _Asha_ _’bellannar_ on my way here,” she added, watching a frown crease Loghain’s features.  “She sends her greetings and congratulates you on surviving.  You have betrayed your friend three times, as she prophesied, but your friend did not fulfill his promise to her.  Should you meet him again, you should remind him he has a debt to pay.”

Loghain’s frown remained, but his mouth opened and close, confusion overcoming what had been anger.  “Dead men can’t pay debts,” Loghain muttered.  He saw the Shaman’s slight shrug.  “I know, you only carry her message,” he added more clearly.  “I’ll let him know, should I ever join him at the Maker’s side.

The Shaman bowed and moved on to speak with Fergus, as Einarr approached Loghain.

Loghain chuckled as greeted Einarr and the warriors he recognized from the battles in the Alienage.  “I wish my scouts could spend more time with you.  They need training,” Loghain grumbled companionably.

“But then they would find us,” Einarr countered.  “We watched them yesterday.  They did not search quite far enough.  We waited until they left to move on and set up our evening camp.”

Loghain shook his head, as the war band leader and his soldiers joined the Fereldans around the fire.  The two groups remained together for two days, before parting.  Shaman Æsa and Einarr provided information on darkspawn activity in their tribe’s land, as well as effects of the Blight.  Fortunately for the Chasind tribes, the Blight had not spread to the lands southeast of Ostagar, nor had the darkspawn invaded in any numbers.  Like the Brecilian and Gwaren, the lands to the far south remained healthy and safe. Agreeing to send word of darkspawn or other dangers, the two groups departed.

As the Fereldans moved southwest, along the edges of the Wilds and west into the Hinterlands, the Blight-affected territories became islands in the midst of healthy, green fields and forests.  In some spots, a Blighted expanse already showed green sprouts along its edges, allaying their fears that the Blighted land might spread.  Seeing new life, however meager, gave the two noblemen hope that the land might one day recover.  From West Hills, where Gallagher Wulff hoped to revive his battered Arling, through the Hinterlands to Redcliffe, where Teagan Guerrin welcomed them, they saw folk returning to farmholds and villages.  More importantly, they encountered few darkspawn bands.  Here, where it had all begun, the darkspawn had disappeared. 

Fergus had related very little of his experiences to his mother.  She had to rely on second hand stories from Anora and, when he visited his daughter and granddaughter, Loghain.  She learned that at Redcliffe, they found Teagan on his own.  The new Arl of Redcliffe brought them up to date over whiskey in his late brother’s study, where each of them tried not to recall past meetings, often concerning Alistair, with Eamon, Maric or Bryce Cousland.  All three men had too many ghosts and Redcliffe brought them to mind.  Despite the fine whiskey, Fergus and Loghain looked forward to moving on, but first, they needed to hear how Teagan fared.  After all, he had to live in this haunted castle.

Settling back, they listened as Teagan spoke.  In Solace, Teagan recounted, First Enchanter Irving had sent for Conner.  Teagan had accompanied the boy and his mother to the Circle Tower.  From the Tower, Teagan arranged for two Chantry priests and a templar, all traveling back to Jader, to accompany Isolde on her trip home to her family in Val Chevin.  Ever dramatic, Isolde wailed and pleaded for permission for Conner to accompany her, but both Irving and Greagoir denied her requests. Teagan, with a shake of his head, described Conner’s relief at entering the Tower and escaping his mother’s tears and lamentations. 

“Of course, the wailing stopped as soon as Conner had disappeared and she began berating me for sending her away.  I suspect the Chantry folk did not look forward to her company, although they said nothing and did approve of her apparent devotion to Andraste.” Teagan’s grimace made it clear he had enjoyed his return to Redcliffe without his demanding former good-sister’s company.  The next day he had taken them on a tour of Redcliffe and the surrounding lands, where villagers had begun to rebuild and farmers worked to harvest what crops they could.

Teagan’s old bann, west of Lake Calenhad, had suffered almost no darkspawn incursions.  Many refugees remained in the camp around Rainesfere which Lys and Alistair had helped Teagan set up.  Some readied themselves for another winter away from their farms and villages.  Most hoped to return to their old farm holds, or new lands, in the spring.  Teagan had already told Alistair’s friends from Dragon’s Peak, who remained in Rainesfere, ministering to the camp and guarding its residents, of his death, sparing Fergus and Loghain that task.  Teagan expressed his belief that the camp would clear out by spring, as he and Wulff had begun to work with the local banns toward ensuring any who wanted a farm hold could have one.

Returning through Redcliffe, where Teagan left them, Fergus and Loghain rode north, this time skirting the Blighted lands around Lothering and heading into the Bannorn.  Here they found roving darkspawn bands, which their troop of soldiers and wardens fought and defeated or sent underground.  Sealing caves where they could, they moved through the Fereldan heartland, again finding islands of desolation amidst this fertile territory.  In the Bannorn, the banns and farm holders had organized themselves, taking refugees into homes in safe areas, distributing food, and patrolling to find and dispatch remaining ‘spawn.  The aid of the Fereldan troops and wardens furthered their efforts.  Fergus turned north to visit his own lands and see Arlessa Philippa before returning to Denerim for the autumn Landsmeet.  With her baby due in Kingsway, Pippa would not be coming to Denerim in August.  Loghain continued through the Bannorn to Denerim, riding the last miles along the South Road. 

The autumn or ‘Little’ Landsmeet convened toward the end of the month of August, after Fereldans had harvested any crops that survived the civil war and Blight.  Since she attended, along with Fergus, Eleanor witnessed the events there firsthand.  Much to Anora’s relief and, to her surprise and Eleanor’s, the Landsmeet accepted Loghain in his role as Arl and General.  Loghain reported to the nobles first as Arl of Gwaren.  He said that both his city and Teyrn Bryland’s lands around the Brecilian Forest suffered little Blight damage.  The people would do what they could to support the rest of Ferelden with food, mostly potatoes, dried berries, sweet syrup, and smoked and salted mutton and fish.  They would also send wood and charcoal for fuel and, come spring, raw wool for spinning and weaving.   

Switching to his role as General, he described his observations and confirmed that rogue darkspawn bands still roamed the land in the period that the old chronicles called the Thaw.  Amaranthine, which suffered very little from the Blight, suffered the worst depredation, which many muttered was only right and a just punishment to those who had supported the old Arl.  Loghain noted that Arl Nathaniel and the Grey Wardens, together, patrolled the Arling and City to defeat the remaining darkspawn bands or drive them back underground, before this large incursion spread to the Bannorn, Highever or Denerim.  

Throughout the rest of Ferelden, he noted that the army, noble militias, and the wardens continued to work together to eradicate remaining darkspawn and seal portals to the Deep Roads or other darkspawn lairs.  The wardens, he had added, continued to expand their ranks, training new recruits and venturing forth to seal caves and mines in their bannorn of Warden’s Hill.  Loghain, along with the Regents, commended the efforts of the nobility in patrolling their own lands and dealing with their own displaced folk.  Warden-Commander Liam, he added, would send wardens wherever needed to provide aid in the fight.  With darkspawn activity diminishing everywhere but Amaranthine, the Landsmeet accepted the General’s report, feeling hopeful that the worst was indeed over and, once Ferelden survived the winter, they could hope for better times in the spring.  Nathaniel felt less optimistic, but kept his own counsel, not wanting to bring more attention to himself or Amaranthine in the wake of his father’s downfall. 

The only significant action by the Little Landsmeet involved Denerim, left without an Arl for over a year since Arl Kendalls died at Ostagar, and his son and heir Vaughn disappeared around the same time, en route to South Reach to join his wife, Habren.  Declaring Vaughn dead, with no heir, they elevated Cauthrien to the nobility and named her Arl of Denerim. Ser Cauthrien retained her position as Captain of Maric’s Shield, which guarded the Palace, the queen, her family, and the regents; the Landsmeet also reconfirmed Captain Kylon as head of Denerim’s guard, which guarded the city and the Arl’s estate.   Based on the skills, integrity and talent Cauthrien had shown during the Blight, the Landsmeet believed the new Arl would serve Denerim well as it rebuilt.   

At Cauthrien’s suggestion, and with the support of the regents, General Loghain, and Captain Kylon, the Landsmeet appointed Hahren Valendrian as Bann of the Alienage, with a seat in the Landsmeet.  The Landsmeet agreed, by a narrow margin, that the elves, who had defended themselves well during the battle, could continue to arm themselves, and patrol and defend the Alienage, as well as apply for positions in the Denerim guard.  No one expected an immediate change in attitudes, but this provided a start.  Cauthrien and Valendrian agreed to Teyrn Cousland’s suggestion that they meet with Arlessa Broughten-Howe and Hahren Cordelian to understand how Higheverport overcame challenges and governed its humans, elves and dwarves. 

Cauthrien and Kylon had, with the regents, been overseeing Denerim’s recovery since Cloudreach.  By Justinian, all the rubble had been cleared in each neighborhood and piled for removal.  Any untainted, repairable items had been left for residents to reclaim or adopt.  There had been a few fights over ownership within families and between neighbors, but the guard and the other neighbors, who could bear witness to the item’s ownership, soon restored calm.  Cabinetmakers, operating under canvas in the open air, scavenged lumber and made repairs or built new pieces.  Carpenters, thatchers, and stone masons had more work than they could handle, repairing and rebuilding the city’s housing.  Dwarftown masons welcomed the chance to go below ground and map and repair the tunnels snaking under the city.  Some would revert to their original use as sewers, while others would remain as escape routes from attack.  With maps and more secure gates on the paths under the walls, the restored underground would no longer be in the hands of smugglers, the Carta, or human and elven criminals.  The Mage Collective would regret losing the old secret paths, but Loghain and Fergus had some ideas for letting them operate in secret, from Gwaren and Highever, with only a small group in Denerim, provided they avoided blood magic.

Trade had resumed quickly, with ships bringing lumber from Gwaren, stone and tiles from Highever and the Marches, reeds and straw from the Bannorn, and food from wherever there was a surplus.  Following the goods, many artisans had come into Denerim from Highever, which suffered little damage, unlike the South and West.  Others came from the Free Marches, seeing more work in Denerim than they had at home.  The regents had no objection to newcomers immigrating to replace the skills of those who had died. 

With those major issues resolved, the Landsmeet had adjourned, leaving the regents to deal with individual pleadings from nobles and commoners.  Given their experience, the Queen Dowager and the two Teyrns quickly settled the disputes.  By the second week in Kingsway, the nobles had returned to their lands or, like Fergus and Eleanor, settled into their estates and townhouses for the winter. 

**x==========x**

Sighing, Fergus leaned back in his chair, as Eleanor relayed the message from the palace.  He had postponed meeting with Leonas and Anora twice this week; he would have to join them today.  He sent a message to the stables to have his horse saddled and proceeded to change from his casual robe into more elegant attire that included breeches, a tunic under a light leather breastplate, and a sleeveless gown, belted, on which he sheathed a sword and knife.  He rode to the palace, attended by four guards, through streets full of activity as rebuilding continued. Only a light snow had fallen since the beginning of Harvestmere, but everyone rushed to complete their shelters before the worst of the winter began.

Arriving at the palace without incident, Fergus joined Leonas and Anora, hoping for a short meeting.  He snorted softly, ignoring Anora’s frown, when she announced the topic.  With Satinalia approaching, Anora wanted to discuss what celebrations the Crown should provide, beyond distributing food.  Fergus fidgeted, earning another annoyed glance from Anora, and offered few comments, thinking that others could decide these things, but Leonas and Anora seemed to think it important that the regents make the plan. Leonas noted that they expected to receive a good supply of mutton, chicken and pork, while Anora wondered whether butchering and distributing it equitably would prove difficult.  Something in Anora’s query caused him to look up and smile, recalling better times in Higheverport.  He surprised himself as much as his two companions by speaking out. 

“We made roasting pits in each section of Higheverport and around the castle,” Fergus said, his eyes staring off into the distance, as if seeing the scene before him.  “We set up tables around the spit, and the local inns sold ale and wine.  The butchers and their helpers saw to the roasting.  Every householder could come, bring beans or potatoes, and any other savory dish they chose to share with their family, and take meat from the common pit.  If the weather turned nasty,” he smiled, “as it too often did, everyone retreated to their homes or the inns and sent a family member with a basket or pot for the meat.  Roasting in public sends a marvelous aroma through the town,” he added, his eyes still unfocused, staring over Teyrn Bryland’s head.  “Good times,” he murmured before settling back and resuming his solemn focus on the table.

“That’s a brilliant idea, Fergus,” Anora said.  “Each pit can have a selection of what meat, fish and fowl we have.  Maybe even a fish chowder on the fire.”

Fergus gave Anora a quick sidelong glance.  “You’re not saving the chowder for yourself?” he teased.

“Well, we’ll distribute only the extra, after I have my share, of course,” she replied, surprised, but pleased that he had responded.  “Will you and Eleanor stay for Satinalia or-”

“-we’re staying here.  Arlessa Philippa will see to the celebrations at ho-…in Higheverport.  It’s all arranged.  She shouldn’t travel so soon after the birth.”

“The baby must be a month old by now and healthy?  It’s good the succession to the two Arlings is secure,” Leonas said.

“Healthy so far as I know.  If they have another, they will divide the Arlings,” Fergus added, relieved the subject had moved to a political topic.  “One for Higheverport and one for Amaranthine and if they’re lucky there’ll be a spare or a girl to marry off.”  He had feared Anora might ask for descriptions and personal details, since he had seen the child, a dark-haired boy they had decided to name Thomas, of all things.  _Second time_ _’s the charm?  I would have picked Byron, for Nate’s dead uncle, or some random name, but they seemed happy with the choice.  At least they didn’t pick Rendon._

Fergus knew Nate had just discovered that the baby’s uncle had died at some Maker-forsaken fort east of the Vigil and assumed this had influenced his choice of name.  _Nate never gave up hope for Thomas’ redemption._ Nate had seen to his brother pyre, and held a memorial service, adding Thomas’ name to the family memorial stone below their mother, their uncle, and Nate’s traitorous grandfather.  _Let_ _’s hope this child follows in his uncle and father’s footsteps._   He realized the conversation had moved beyond Nate and Pippa’s baby when Anora touched his arm.

“We need to meet with Arl Cauthrien, Captain Kylon, and Bann Valendrian,” Anora was saying as Fergus attention returned to the matters at hand.  After sending messengers to the Alienage and Arl’s estate, Anora leaned back in her chair and sipped the spiced wine in her goblet.  She watched Fergus, wondering if he would ever adjust to his losses.  A wife, a father, a sister, a son…only Eleanor had suffered similar losses.  _I lost Cailan, but I have my daughter and my father.  Even Nate has his wife, a child and his sister._   Certainly, other Fereldans had lost as much as Fergus, but she did not know them.  Fergus and Eleanor were friends.  While Eleanor hid it better, both Couslands merely functioned, doing their duty despite the pain.

Teyrn Bryland began to report on his tour of the city, relating that no more Denerim citizens lived in tents or make-shift shelters unsuitable for a southern winter.  The food stores, supplemented by hunting in the forests outside the city, would provide a steady, if not varied, diet until spring.  The Satinalia celebrations would mark a turning point:  the city and its citizens would survive the winter.

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere === Higheverport**

“We arrived at an opportune time,” Kai said, looking at the festivities in the streets of Higheverport. “No one’s paying us any attention.” 

“Pippa’s made sure the traditional celebrations resumed,” Lys agreed.  “It’s as if nothing’s changed.”

“That’s not true,” Kai said.  “I’ve heard several folks remarking that they miss your family, but understand that your Mum and Fergus stayed in Denerim because he’s a Regent.”

Covered by wimples and veils, the two women spent the morning anonymously shopping for sorely needed cloth, food, and other supplies for themselves, Reina, Maric, Estrid and the crew of the _Wyvern_.  No one took notice of strangers, given that family and friends had flocked to Higheverport from farm holds and outlying towns to celebrate a Satinalia free of Blight and Rendon Howe’s troops.  The people of Higheverport showed no interest in a human woman and her elven handmaiden.

While Lys and Kai shopped, Reina took two elves from the Orphanage to visit the Alienage and Hahren Cordelian. Captured by Rendon Howe just before his downfall, the two elven men from Denerim understood the world outside Howe’s fortress, unlike many of their fellow prisoners, and could represent the freed elves who hoped to gain asylum in the Highever Alienage.   The elves only knew Lys as Lady Howe and much as she hated that title, it kept her identity secret; her pregnancy allowed her to remain isolated from the other passengers on the _Wyvern_ , leaving the elves’ rescue to Kai and Reina, whom they knew.

As Lys and Kai walked back to the docks, a wheeled litter trundled past, curtains partially open, heading to the Alienage.  Lys stopped, recognizing the occupant, wrapped in furs and holding a bundle.

“Pippa,” Kai said softly.  “She’s just had the baby.”

“Let’s hope she’ll agree to rescue our elves,” Lys said, avoiding any personal comment.  “Hahren Cordelian will have a plan already, I’m sure.  The women all spin and weave.  They can join her workshop.”

“The men have talents too.  They’ve all been kidnapped from some other life as young men.  Some may even want to return home.”

“Pippa won’t turn them away.  She’s taking her son with her to meet with them.  That’s a serious signal of goodwill.”

Others had stopped to look at the Arlessa, who leaned forward, smiled and waved.  Lys swallowed, blinking back tears of joy and sadness.  “She wouldn’t turn them away, even if she wasn’t Nate’s wife.  Higheverport is her city.  She doesn’t need Fergus’ permission to accept the elves as refugees.”  Lys watched the cart disappear around a corner towards the Alienage before she turned to Kai.  “You should go to the Alienage; avoid Myfa, but see what you can find out…what the elves there think.  Pippa may accept the refugees, but the elves must too.  Hahren Cordelian will have conferred with her council before she asked Pippa to visit.”

“So, they must have agreed?”

“Or they’re asking Pippa to provide other options.”

“Ah, but she’ll need Fergus…right, that would be a problem if he’s not here.”

“If they won’t take them, we’ll have to just leave them on the coast west of here and hope they can find shelter or take them to Cumberland.”

“I’ll go get news,” Kai said. “What will you do?”

“We’re almost to the docks.   I’ll go back to the ship.  You can join Reina and the two men when they leave the Alienage.”

“You’re not going to walk out to the castle, are you?  Or something equally foolish.”

Lys smiled.  “No.  I have no need to stir up memories, Kai, they come unbidden and I work to bury them. I’ll go back and take a nap.”

Kai looked towards the docks where a boat waited to row Lys back to the _Wyvern_.  “Fine.  I’ll see what I can learn.”

They parted and Lys, instead of going to the docks, made her way towards the Haris warehouse.  Slipping inside, she made her way down a flight of steps into a storeroom.  As the wooden panel, which matched all the other panels in the storage room, popped open under pressure, a dust cloud puffed up and she sneezed.  Going through the almost hidden door into the tunnel she sighed, recalling the sound of Howe’s troops in this tunnel eighteen months before. _This entry needs to be secured better._ She began the long, uphill trek to the portal entrance halfway between the Arl’s Keep and Castle Cousland.  Arriving, she pressed her palm against the wall and the door to the portal chamber slid open.

**Areth, Revona City**

Lys stood in the Travelers Council Building, gathering all the items she had ordered when she arrived.  This time she had not visited her Aunt Olivia, although she had been tempted.  While she believed her Aunt Liv would honor her wishes to remain hidden from her family and Pippa, she hesitated to ask her to do so, at least until she had more definite plans.  Bringing Maric to Areth would not prove difficult, since his blood would prove his relationship to her child.  Kai had no such claim, but Lys hoped she could persuade the Council to allow it.   If not, she would need Liv’s help. As an elf, Kai could provide cultural information and Liv, as a professor, historian and anthropologist might help persuade the Travelers Council of Kai’s value.  Observing is one thing, actually talking with an elf - one who knew both Dalish and city elf culture - would prove invaluable or at least she hoped the Council would see it that way.  Until she knew if she needed Liv’s help, she would not contact her aunt.  _Plenty of time to do that once we reach Cumberland._

Packing a new supply of Blight pills, antibiotics, vitamins and a few other supplies, along with the sense of well-being a full pre-natal and physical exam provided, she headed back to the portal to return to Higheverport and make her way back to the ship.  Reina had kept her healthy and for that she would be forever grateful to the mage.  Whatever path Reina chose, Lys would do her best to ensure she succeeded.  Her other challenge would be explaining Areth to Maric, Kai…and to the baby’s grandmother.  Fiona deserved to know Alistair had left a baby behind – and she could help Reina.  She pushed away thoughts of her own mother and Fergus.  Those choices would have to wait.

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere === Higheverport**  

Kai found Lys asleep in their cabin when she returned to the _Wyvern._ Retreating to the deck, she sat down with Maric to bring him up to date on the day’s accomplishments.  She had schooled herself not to call him Your Majesty or even my lord at his, and Lys’, insistence.  What surprised her was how easy she found it to talk with him.  The man had been a king, but he treated her like an equal, just as Lys did.  Ferelden had lost more than she realized when Rendon Howe kidnapped him.

Sitting on a rower’s bench next to the one-time king, Kai told him that Arlessa Philippa Broughten-Howe had agreed to accept the elves from the Orphanage once Hahren Cordelian explained her plan.  The women would join the weaving workshop and the men would find jobs based on their prior experience.  Highever had not been devastated by the Blight, but lives had been lost during Howe’s occupation.  The city and teyrnir continued to rebuild and needed workers and children. 

Both the Hahren and Pippa had asked Reina if she planned to stay, promising to help her get a free mage certificate, but the mage had declined with thanks, saying she would rather return to Nevarra when the _Wyvern_ left Higheverport the following day.  She had not explained that the Fereldan Circle would claim her as a blood mage and no amount of help from the Arlessa would change the First Enchanter or the Knight-Commander’s view.  She doubted even Jowan’s testimony would convince the two men that she had not escaped willingly.

When Kai finished, Maric remained silent for a long time before saying, “I’m the reason Lys won’t reveal herself, aren’t I?”

“No,” Kai replied.  “Not just you.  She’s worried about the baby, too.  She can admit the baby is Alistair’s, but that puts the babe in danger from Orlais and Tevinter.  If she says it’s Thomas’ to conceal his parentage…well, that’s a whole different kind of risk. Her Mum may think she should tell Nate and Delilah the truth if the baby is their nephew.  Neither of them supported their father, so they’re given the benefit of the doubt, but some people aren’t sure about them, either.  That’s not true of Thomas, and Lys fears Thomas’ evil would reflect on his child.  Besides, she doesn’t want it to be Thomas’.  It’s Alistair’s and she won’t deny that.”

“Right, but surely Eleanor would keep her secret.”

“Lady Eleanor has two children and, as we’ve learned, Fergus is a Regent for Queen Elin.  Lady Eleanor might feel she must tell him.”  Kai reached out to lay a hand on Maric’s arm.  “Give Lys some time.  She’ll make the right choice.  She can always tell her family, but once she does, she can’t take it back.  She needs to feel sure her baby is safe, not just you.”

Waking from her nap, Lys joined Maric, Kai, Reina and Estrid for dinner in the Captain’s cabin.  As they ate, each retold the events of the day to bring the whole company up to date.  Only Lys had little to say.  Estrid, they learned, had also gone ashore to seek more sailors.  Two elves who had helped the crew as they traveled from the Orphanage to Higheverport had asked to join permanently and been accepted, but Estrid needed a few more sailors to make up a full complement.  She had also, she added, found cargo for Cumberland, which would be loaded in the morning as the elves left. 

In the morning the elves all debarked, each with a pouch of coins, to begin their new lives, a little bewildered and overwhelmed, but thankful for the reception the Higheverport Alienage offered.  The next afternoon, with cargo loaded and with a full complement of sailors, the _Wyvern_ left for Cumberland.

**x==========x**

Lys stood at the rail of the steering platform, gazing at the starry sky above.  _Better get this over with now, while the sky_ _’s clear._ Kai and Maric stood beside her, watching the wake churn behind them as the wind pushed the caravel west.  Lys touched Kai’s arm and motioned for her to companions to follower her to the port side of the platform.

“Glorious sky full of stars, isn’t it?”

Maric grinned.  “After all those years in the dark, even a night like this with no moons seemed brilliant.”

“Satina will rise later,” Lys said, “but I want to show you something before it does. You both have seen falling stars, right?”

“Of course,” Kai said. 

“Have you ever noticed that,” and she pointed towards a bright object tracking across the western sky well above the horizon.  “That bright object moving steadily south to north above the horizon.”

Kai and Maric both stared at the pin-point of light slowly, but clearly, moving across the sky, and then looked at Mel.

“It’s odd,” Kai said, “it’s constant like a star, but it moves.  Falling stars only go a short distance before they wink out.”

“And they fall,” Maric said.  “They don’t travel in a straight-line parallel to the ground.”

“No, they don’t, but that isn’t a star.”  Lys spoke very quietly; Estrid, at the wheel, wouldn’t hear her over the noise of the sea, the wind and the creaking of the ship.  “Have you ever considered that there might be other worlds out there, far away?”

“Other…you mean with people?”  Kai had raised an eyebrow.  Her mouth quirked as if she expected a punch line.

“I mean with people.  Worlds that can send people to travel through space.”

Maric had said nothing, just stared at Lys, a thoughtful crimp forming across his brow. 

“You’re serious,” Kai said.  “You believe in other worlds?  Not the Fade.  Or the Void, where souls go, but other worlds like Thedas?”

“I do.  I’ve been to other worlds.  That moving object is a satellite.  It allows people…me…to travel from Thedas to a world called Areth.  It’s where I got the Blight pills, Kai.  And the special gambesons, and, well, other things.  My family came to Thedas, to Highever, in the Glory Age, from Areth.  We’re called Travelers.  Over the ages Ferelden became our home, but we still return to Areth for education, some supplies, and to visit family who live there.  “Look, I have some things to show you, but we should go to our cabin.”

Kai and Maric exchanged glances and let Lys get ahead of them.

“She’s serious?” Maric whispered.

Kai wrinkled her nose,” Umm…yeah, that’s not her jokey face.  We’ve seen some unbelievable things in the past year, but…other worlds?”  She looked at Mel, who had stopped at the ladder leading down to the deck. 

“I could say the same about my past,” Maric murmured, “unbelievable things, but not traveling the stars.”

They followed Lys into her cabin. 

Lys watched her friends sit on Kai’s bunk, exchange a look, and take deep breaths, almost in unison.  “I know it’s difficult, but maybe these will convince you,” she said, pulling items out of a satchel.  “It’s fantastical, I know.  I was with Fergus when he told Oriana.  If she hadn’t loved him so much, I think she’d have left for Antiva on the next ship.  And, no,” she said to Kai, “Zevran was not part of the conversation.  He does not know what I’m revealing to you.”  She continued explaining, saying, “Fergus and Oriana went through the portal the same day, which convinced her.  We can’t do that until we get to Cumberland, but I thought I’d give you both some time to absorb the information and play with some of the toys I brought back.”

“Brought back?” Kai asked, eyes narrowing.

“Toys?” Maric said.

“There’s a portal in Higheverport.”

Kai’s nose wrinkled again as she shrugged.  “Let’s see your treasures.”

Maric only nodded.  Lys held out a small camera she had brought back from her visit the day before.  Fortunately, the pictures from her old camera, the one she had left with her belongings in Denerim, had been stored on Areth and she could download them.  She turned it on and flipped open the viewing screen.  A picture of Kai and Zev came up.  She handed the camera to Kai, who took it and, gasped, eyes widening.  She stared, not able to take her eyes away from the screen, as her fer finger traced Zevran’s jaw.

“Who?” Maric whispered.

“Zevran, my lover,” Kai said.  “How?”  She looked at Lys.

Lys sat beside Kai and showed her how to move through the pictures, explaining that the device captured an image in time and stored it.  Alistair came up next and Maric’s breath stopped for a moment.  Lys bit her lip and began to reach out, but pulled her hand back. 

“Alistair?” Maric asked in a whisper, although he knew the answer.

“I’ll leave you to look through the pictures.  Kai, you can tell Maric who’s who.  He’s heard us talk about everyone, now he can put faces with the names.”  She pulled two ear cuffs out of her pack.  “I brought these back, too.”

Kai looked at her.  Lys had come to dinner wearing what looked like her old ear cuff, but that one had disappeared after the battle. “I wondered where you got that ear cuff.  You went to this place…Areth, while I went to the Alienage, didn’t you?”

“Yes.  The portal is in the tunnel between the Keep and the Castle.  I have more pills, medicines, the camera and these.”  She held up the cuffs.  “And I had an examination.  I’m healthy and so is the baby.”  Lys waited for the next question.  _How had she had time to do all that?_ but it didn’t come.  _Not yet.  One of them will ask it after the shock wears off._

Maric twisted the ear cuff in his hand, while Kai fitted hers, having seen Lys do it many times.  Lys took Maric’s back and fitted the simple cuff on his ear.  Pressing it, she murmured ‘play bluegrass’ and Maric’s head shot up.  She put a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s music.”

“I know it’s music,” he grumbled, “but what kind of magic is this?”

Lys helped Kai start the music in her cuff, choosing indie/folk for her, before she replied.  “None of this is magic.  Areth has no magic.  If you were a mage and went to Areth, your mana would…disappear is the best way I can describe it.  No one understands why, it just does.  Everything Areth has is based on science.”

“No magic,” Kai said, almost to herself.  She looked up and focused on Lys, her eyes narrowed.  “No wonder I always had to nudge you or call out when you wore your cuff!”

Lys shrugged one shoulder and smirked.

Kai smiled.  “I like the music.”

“As do I,” Maric said. 

“Only you can hear the music playing in your ear,“ Lys said.  She had taken the camera from Kai for a moment as she talked and now handed it back.  A new picture had come onto the screen, of Kai and Maric looking up at Lys, ear cuffs visible. Her friends looked at themselves in surprise.

“It’s a little dark in here, so not the best image,” Lys said.  “Anyway, why don’t you listen, look, enjoy, and think.  Areth has no Orlesians, no Tevinters, no one looking for any of us.  There are, by the way, no Travelers in Orlais or Tevinter - both are deemed too unfriendly and not safe.  Areth is safe and I’ve already submitted the requests for you to go there with me.”  She held up both hands, palm out.  “Not permanently and only if you want to,” she assured them.  “I come and go and so can you.  As I said, think about it.  There’s a portal in Cumberland.  You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“Nor do you,” Kai said, “But it sounds like a safe place to think.”

“It is that, and a safe place to birth a child.”

Lys returned to the deck and searched for the satellite.  Three circled the planet where Thedas formed part of one continent.  As far as she knew, no Traveler had ventured beyond Thedas, or at least no one who had returned to tell about it.  _One day, perhaps_ _…._  She hoped Kai and Maric enjoyed the pictures.  Kai, after all, had chosen to remain with her and not find Zev; Maric had long ago come to terms with his losses, or so she believed.  She, on the other hand, was not ready to revisit good memories or see pictures of Alistair or any of the others.  Seeing Pippa today had been difficult enough.  She wasn’t sure she would have stayed hidden, if it had been her Mum. _Am I doing the right thing, hiding from them all?  Kai_ _’s right, better to be in Areth, safe, and then decide who to tell._   She rubbed her belly where her son lay growing.  _Maybe I_ _’m paranoid, not telling Mum, but I will keep you safe._ She had this baby, her son and Ali’s, who she would name after the grandfather she had never known, Teyrn William Cousland, and she would, one day, show her son the pictures and talk about his father, but not alone, not on this day.

**x==========x**

Sometime later, Kai joined her on the steering deck.  The elf slipped her arm through Lys’, kept it there as Lys stiffened and then relaxed, and they watched the wake churn into the sea behind them.

“Maren was tired.  He went to bed.  It’s rather a lot to take in.”

“I know…well, I don’t since I’ve never known anything else.  There’s always been two worlds for me, but I know how difficult it was for Oriana.”  Lys looked at Kai, smiling.  “She loved it, by the way, once she got there and got over the shock.”

“They let just anyone in?”

“Even elves?”

“Well…yes.”

“No, but usually it’s based on relationships.  Any family member.  I had to ask for special permission for you.  I’m sure they’ll agree, but they may want to talk with you.”

“Talk?”

“About your life as an elf in the Alienage and with the Dalish and with me.  We keep histories - hence all those diaries I’m so careful to keep.”

Kai chuckled.  “That explains a lot.  I always wondered why you would stay up, practically falling asleep, to write.”  Kai cocked her head.  “Your diaries are in Denerim.”

“Yes, but eventually Mum or Fergus will find them and take them to Areth.  I’ll need to catch up on the last months, but that happens sometimes.”  Lys hesitated, then spoke again.  “You don’t have to come with me Kai.  I’ll be safe there.  I can come back with the baby.  We can-”

“-nope, I’m coming if they’ll have me.”

“Just think about it.”

Kai nodded as a frown furrowed her brow.  “Will this Areth conquer us someday?”

“No.  I did say we came in the Glory Age.  If we were going to be conquerors we’d have done it long ago.  We study the lands we explore…my aunt, my Mum’s sister, Olivia’s an anthropologist, someone who studies a people and their culture over time.  I insisted any interviews be done by her.  She’ll be the first family member I tell.  She went to Areth as a child during the Rebellion and decided to stay.  She comes back to study and to visit.  She came back with Mum after the attack.  It was Aunt Liv who took Queen Elin to the Haris Manor near Nevarra City and stayed with her.”

“Your Aunt?”

“That’s why Mum was so sure of Elin’s safety.”

“Will I stand out?”

Lys laughed.  “Native Arethians are humans like me, but Areth is part of a group of worlds in its part of the galaxy - the stars and worlds surrounding it,” she explained seeing the unspoken question in Kai’s face. “Not all the worlds or planets are inhabited and, of those that are, not all are inhabited by humans who look like me.  You will be one of many races.  You’ll be noticed for your beauty, not because you’re an elf.”

“My beauty?”

“Well, you are beautiful.  And strong.   And brilliant.  We…the Arethians…value all those things.  Areth is far from perfect, but-”

“-better than here?”

“In all ways but one,” Lys said softly.  She looked at Kai and tried to smile, but failed.  “It’s not home, but we’ll have each other and we’ll be safe.  We’ll manage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	5. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvestmere and Firstfall 9:31 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.
> 
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

 

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 5:  Moving On**

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere === Kirkwall**

Arriving on the early morning tide, the _Chained Maiden_ left two chests and an oddly shaped crate on the Kirkwall dock for delivery to one Varric Tethras at the Hanged Man.  As the workers lifted the large crate, they tilted it to fit onto the cart, causing the contents to shift.  H, the men looked at each other, _had it groaned?_

“Let’s get this on the cart and get it out of here,” the lead worker grumbled.  “Don’t look like one a those Nevarran dead boxes, but who knows what these dwarves ship to each other.  Do they put their dead in a box?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that the dead don’t groan,” another said.  “Could be a mage. Should we call the templars?”

“This Tethras guy’s a dwarf.  Dwarves don’t fool with magic,” the leader said.  “Just get it off the dock.”  He waved to the carter and his boy, both standing ready to lead the mule north, up the hill to Lowtown.  “Got it tied on and secure, mate?” When the carter nodded, he swept his arm towards the path.  “Take it away.”

The cart moved slowly, up the cobbled streets and into Lowtown, giving the occupant of the crate a few more bruises when the wheels hit loose cobbles or pot holes.  Upon arrival at the Hanged Man, Corff, the bartender, told the carter to leave the chests and crate in an apartment next to Varric’s. 

“Serah Tethras is out,” he explained to the carter.  “He left this for you,” he added, holding up a pouch.  For a few coppers, two almost sober patrons helped carry the load up the stairs to the living quarters.  When he returned, Corff, tossed the carter the coin pouch and the man left.  When Varric returned Corff let him know the goods had arrived.

“Stuff’s in the apartment, but no one’s come to claim it or move in.”   Nodding towards the half-empty room, he added, “I’d have seen someone come through.”

“No?  Odd,” Varric said and went to investigate.  He had half expected Ser Alun himself to turn up, based on nothing more than a hunch.  The two had only exchanged a few letters, limited to goods orders, before the strange request for the Satinalia Eve shipment.  Ser Alun was not part of Varric’s information network and he wouldn’t know the knight if he tripped over him, so for all he knew he had passed him in the common room below.  What he did know was that Ser Alun had made two requests in his last letter.  Pick up a shipment at the clandestine dock on the Waking Sea coast of Ferelden on Satinalia Eve, for delivery to the Hanged Man and, second, rent a room for an unnamed person in Kirkwall.  Once that was done, Ser Alun had written, the unnamed person would retrieve the shipment and take it to the rented rooms.  The request had puzzled him, but he saw no harm in it and welcomed the coin.   As it happened, the apartment next to his own rooms was empty, so he could comply with the requests and satisfy his own curiosity. 

The two small chests had been placed just inside the door, while the larger, heavier crate had been carried into the alcove containing the bed.  He checked the smaller chests, but found them locked.  _Tempting_ , he had thought to himself, _but I_ _’ll leave them for-._

“-just looking or do you plan to sell off my belongings?” 

Varric froze.   Slowly he straightened up and looked for the source of the voice. A tall man, shirtless, his short, reddish-blond hair tousled, faced him, feet apart, in the entrance to the alcove, sword in one hand and scabbard in the other.  His reddish beard showed several days growth, but did not hide a scar which ran from his temple down along his jawbone.  Hazel eyes stared at Varric, waiting for him to react.

“Ser Alun, I presume?”  Varric asked, bowing his head.  “Varric Tethras.  Good to meet you.”

The man nodded and relaxed his grip on the sword. 

“Making sure the delivery arrived and that there’s nothing…dangerous here.”  Varric gestured towards the chests with his open palm.  “I see the delivery arrived, but I’m not sure about the danger part.”  He moved closed to the canvas and wood crate and shook his head as he realized how Ser Alun had arrived in the room.  “Man, what were you thinking?  You spent the whole voyage in that crate?”

“Best way to hide my passage.  The canvas let in air, but hid me.  It locked from inside, so I could get out whenever I wanted.  Holds may be nasty places, but that crate proved better than spending a voyage curled up in a box,” Ser Alun said softly.  “No one saw me.  Only you know I’m here.”

Varric chuckled.  “So, I _should_ feel nervous?”  He stepped back towards the open door, wishing he had Bianca. 

“No.  No, I’m no threat to you, but I do want to keep my whereabouts quiet.  Now that I’m here, I’m guessing you can help me or,” he raised the sword again, “my blade, find work.  Guarding caravans.  People.  That sort of thing.  I know you’re a merchant.  You have contacts.”  Alistair looked around the room.  “Is this temporary storage or can I stay here?”  He sheathed his sword and laid the scabbard on the crate. 

“I don’t own the Hanged Man, but I have some influence.  I rented the room for you.  If you have the coin, the room’s yours for as long as you want it.”  Varric leaned against the door frame.  “I might find you work.” Staring at Ser Alun, he rubbed his chin and then stepped back into the room and closed the door.  “Look, a renegade Grey Warden might be noticed eventually-”

“-I’m not a warden, Serah Tethras.  I just worked for them.  My reasons for leaving Ferelden secretly – well, they’re my own.  Personal, not criminal.   I’m not a mage.  As you may note, I wrote to you as Ser Alun from Ferelden and I’m Ser Alun here.”

“That’s convincing,” Varric said, snorting.  “Look, I have friends who may need an extra sword and no questions asked.  Are you good with that blade?”

Ser Alun shrugged.  “I’m told I am.  I beat most of my sparring partners.”

“You fought during the Blight?”  Varric decided not to ask for whom or where, exactly.  He had heard enough to know the civil war could still cause disagreements.  If the man could fight, he could work.

“I did.”

“And you can travel?”  He saw the man frown.  “With a merchant caravan.”

“Ah…yes, as long as I return here.  I’d like to keep a base.”

“Home?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but, somewhere to store my things, such as they are.”  He gestured towards to the two chests. 

“Let me talk with my friends.  If they agree, I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”

Alistair smiled.  “I think I owe you this?”  He tossed Varric a pouch.  “And who do I pay for the room?”

“For now, me.  Took it in my name for three months.”  He hefted the pouch.  “I suspect this might cover it.  Do you always overpay, Ser Alun?”

“No.  I’m trusting in your honesty,” Ser Alun said.  “It’s a trial.  Trust someone and see what happens.”

Varric laughed.  “Well, I hope that works for you.”  He saluted him with a nod and left, wondering just who he had helped flee Ferelden.  He frowned as he returned to his own apartment.   He had not heard of any noble fugitives lately, but he would have to enquire about both nobles and wardens.  With the Blight over, the flow of refugees had diminished to a trickle.  This one seemed to have money, which made him even more curious.  In the meantime, he would try to find him employment.  The larger caravans hired mercenary companies, but a few smaller merchants hired freelancers like this Ser Alun.  If he worked out, he would have work for the winter in the Marches. 

**9:31 Dragon, FirstFall  === Valance, Orlais and Western Ferelden near Haven**

Leliana put the scented soap in her pack and tied the flap closed.  She would miss the comforts of the small monastery in Valance and, even more, her conversations with Mother Dorothea, but the Chantry had given her a mission.  _Return to Haven,_ Mother Dorothea had told her, _explore further, and establish a Pilgrimage site for the faithful._ She sighed, taking one last look around her sparsely furnished, but warm and dry quarters.  Now she would face more camping and more fighting, for she had no doubts that rogue darkspawn and perhaps a few Haven zealots, not to mention bandits, would attack her group.  Fortunately, Brother Genitivi would join her in Havenmouth with brothers and sisters, priests, and templars, and a contingent of Fereldan soldiers to guard them and set up an outpost in the village of Haven.  She realized the Fereldans would patrol for Orlesian infiltrators as well as protect the Chantry workers, but that did not bother her.  She wanted no Orlesian interference either.  Not from the Empress, not from Grand Duke Gaspard and not from the Divine - well, the Divine’s spokespeople.  _The Divine_ _’s health fails,_ Mother Dorothea had told her, _but I agree with those surrounding her.  We must explore Haven further and make it a site for pilgrimage._    Leliana shouldered her pack, her jaw set, determined to succeed.  Her orders had come from Mother Dorothea and she would follow no others. 

Two weeks later she fingered the leather pouch hanging around her neck on a thong.  Ashes.  Leliana had told Mother Dorothea about the pinch each member of Alistair’s group had received and Mel’s rationale.  With Mel and Alistair both dead, she had decided revealing Mel’s actions hardly mattered.  Dorothea had surprised her, saying Mel had done the right thing under the circumstances.  Had the ashes not saved the Warden-Commander from death when he fought the Haven dragon?  For such a small group against such large odds, she believed Andraste would consider Mel’s actions sensible.  Andraste had, after all, led an army.  Her songs might be prophesy, but she dealt in practicalities as she raised her family and then led her people.

Leliana had added that she suspected Mel had taken more than a pinch for each companion.  Leliana knew she also gave pinches to her brother Fergus, to Nathaniel, and to Arlessa Philippa.  _But why not_ , Mother Dorothea had asked.  _Did they not fight too?  Are they not rebuilding Ferelden now?  I think Lady Cousland did her duty and served our Lady._ Dorothea had returned the pouch to Leliana, unopened.  _Now you will serve her again and may need these ashes.  Keep them safe._

From the courtyard below her window in Havenmouth, she heard footsteps thumping and hooves clattering on the cobbles.  Not only had Genitivi arrived with Fereldan troops, he had brought two wardens, ones she did not know, to keep watch for darkspawn and warn of any attacks.  She had not asked for them, but the Warden-Commander had heard of the mission and contacted Genitivi.  Liam had also sent a note and a package. 

_Sister Leliana,_ he had begun, _At least I believe that is the correct title now?_ She had chuckled at that, recalling the many times she had insisted he call her only Leliana.  In the package, she had found a pouch of Blight pills.  _Use them sparingly,_ Liam had written, _as I don_ _’t have an endless supply.  These should keep your people safe for some time.  The soldiers have their own supply from Lord Fergus._

Liam had gone on to say he thought she might wonder what had happened to their other companions, since she had been the first to leave after the Battle.  He noted that Morrigan had left to pursue some interests of her own, but would return.  Zevran had gone off on his own to places unknown.  _Probably back to Antiva to settle with his House,_ Leliana thought.  Oghren had gone to Vigil’s Keep and insisted on becoming a warden.  He had survived his Joining, Liam said, and remained in Amaranthine with Taina, Daveth, Jowan and Anders to battle the darkspawn incursion there.  Wynne remained at the palace for the moment, but spoke of returning to the Circle.  Fiona had returned to Cumberland not long after Leliana had left.  

To everyone’s surprise, Mel and Alistair’s deaths had affected Sten deeply.  He had, she remembered, called Alistair _kadan_ after the sparring match Alistair had won just outside of Haven.  He had sometimes sat with Mel and her mabari, quietly talking.  After the battle, Sten had taken Shep into his quarters and nursed the mabari back to health.   The two had made their own search of Denerim, but Shep had found no scent indicating his mistress lived. The Qunari had also left, Liam said, soon after Leliana, carrying only a small pack, the answer to his Arishok’s question, his pouch of ashes and Blight pills, and a recipe for cookies.  He had taken Shep with him.  To everyone’s surprise, Shep had gone willingly, leaving her brothers Jadyn and Happenstance behind with Fergus and Loghain.  _Perhaps,_ Liam had written, _mabari can also join the Qun?_ Leliana had chuckled.  She missed the Warden-Commander’s dry wit. 

Liam had added more news about Denerim, Fereldan’s rebuilding, the Regents, Teyrna Eleanor and others.  _You probably know most of what I_ _’ve related,_ he wrote in closing, _but, in case your contacts missed something, I thought I_ _’d fill you in.  Keep in touch, Sister.  We may yet be of service to each other.  Your companion and friend, Warden-Commander Liam Amell._  She laughed.  Liam’s letter convinced her, as, she suspected, he had intended, that he would make a good contact.  She would write back and welcome his wardens.  She gathered her pack and went to join the others in the courtyard.  Haven and a new shrine to Andraste awaited. 

**9:31 Dragon, FirstFall  ===  Denerim**

“I hate winter.  I blink and the sun disappears.”  Anora pushed the shutter closed and pulled the heavy curtain over the window to keep out the worst of the cold.  Behind her, four braziers burned, one in each corner of the room, while a high settle stood before the room’s fireplace, where a great log crackled and flamed.  High backed chairs bracketed the hearth.   The square formed by the high backs of the settle and chairs captured heat from the fire.

Loghain sat in one of the chairs; Fergus, facing him, sat in the other.  Teyrna Eleanor sat at one end of the settle, near Loghain, embroidering.  _They_ _’re so awkward with each other and with me.  Once Elin goes to bed, they go quiet._   She looked at the three people closest to her and decided the time had come to speak. Nodding to Erlina to retire to the bedroom, she took a deep breath and stepped toward the fire.

“We all lost people last year,” Anora said, seating herself in center of the settle.  “Some of us made mistakes.   Horrible mistakes.   We’re all angry and sad and alone.  We sit here, but we’re each alone.  I’m tired of it.

“Father, your fears made you vulnerable to horrible influences, but blood magic made you sign those orders.  You would never have enslaved elves, or let Howe kidnap me or attack the Couslands.  Rendon Howe did all that.”  She looked at Eleanor.  “All of it.

“Fergus, you and Eleanor lost more than anyone should have to bear.  I can’t imagine how deeply it hurts, but your Mum didn’t let it happen.  She lost as much as you.  Lys didn’t let it happen.  If they could have stopped it, they would have.  You can’t blame them for surviving.  Rendon Howe killed your father, Oriana, Oren and all the others.  Howe.  Not your Mum and not Lys.  They lost their family too.  A father, a husband, a grandchild, a good-sister…you’re not alone in your suffering.

“I can’t imagine your loss, Eleanor, or Fergus’.  I do know my father didn’t condone, approve, or incite anything Howe did in Highever, any more than he deserted Cailan at Ostagar.  Father allowed terrible things to happen under the influence of Howe’s mages.  I allowed terrible things to happen by not standing up to Cailan and my father.”

“No,” Fergus said, through clenched teeth.  “He held you here, a prisoner.”

“Who?” Anora asked softly.

Eleanor looked up.  “Howe.  Cauthrien told me that Howe gave the guards their orders, not,” she glanced at Loghain, “not your father.”  Eleanor took a deep breath.  “You’re right.  I’ve had difficulty recalling the man I once knew.   A man I called friend.”  She looked at Loghain.  “Truce?  I’ll try to remember my friend, if you’ll stop hunching your shoulders and creeping away from me.”

“Creep!  I’ve never crept in my life!” Loghain objected, but a hint of smile ghosted across his lips.

Eleanor chuckled, softly.  “Bad choice of word, perhaps?  Slink?  Skulk?  Sneak?”

A smile did ghost across Loghain’s face when Eleanor finished.

“Eleanor’s right, Father, you do try to disappear in to the shadows.” 

“That, I will concede, but I do not creep…or slink, sneak, skulk.”  One side of his mouth quirked up into a lopsided grin.  “Truce.  It’s just…Bryce was my friend.  I haven’t had that many.  I mourn him too.   I should have seen-”

“-we all should have seen, Loghain,” Eleanor said, staring at the flames.  “I keep thinking others should have, but I should have too.  We all failed to see what was right in front of us.”  She looked at Loghain.  “I do blame you for one thing.  I blame you for leaving Anora and Cailan alone to go search for Maric.  That was a mistake, but the rest…the rest was Howe’s doing.  Your mistake may have eased the way for Howe, but others made mistakes too.   Bryce…he trusted too easily.   Gave evil the benefit of the doubt.”

While they spoke, Fergus stood up and turned towards the fire, one forearm resting on the mantel.   When Anora said his name, he leaned his forehead on his hand.   She walked over to stand beside him, putting a hand on his arm.  “He was six years old,” Fergus whispered.  “Six. I should have been there.  I should have kept them safe.  I should have sent them to her parents. I should…I should have died, too.”  His shoulders shook as he cried.  Anora put an arm around his back, whispering his name. 

Eleanor looked on, unsure whether to go to her son or let Anora comfort him.  Loghain nodded his head towards Fergus, giving her the impetus she need to get up.  She squeezed Loghain’s hand as she went past.  Wrapping her arms around Fergus she pulled him into an embrace and held him until his crying subsided.  Anora took a seat on the settle near her father, reaching across the gap to take his hand.  Finally, Fergus took a deep ragged breath and pulled back from his mother’s embrace.  “I’m sorry Mum.  I thought I’d adjusted, but after Lys…it all crashed in again.  Maybe if we knew what happened, but she just disappeared.  As if she never existed.  Just like Oriana and Oren.  And Da.  They all disappeared.”

Eleanor pulled him to the settle and sat down beside him.  “I hadn’t thought about it quite that way, Fergus,” she said.  “I thought it better that you didn’t see, but…after losing Lys, I understand.  You keep thinking there must have been something you could have done.  Or that maybe….”

“There never is,” Loghain said.  “No matter how many times you revisit it, even if you saw how a person died, you think maybe…but there’s never anything you could have done. Unless it’s die, yourself, along with them and they wouldn’t want that.  Maric taught me that, even if I was slow to learn.  He ran when his mother told him to run.  He always said, if there’s one thing he did that made her proud, it was that.  I can hear him.  _I ran.  I lived.  And we won.  Living is the best revenge._  It’s what they would want of us.”

Anora, Eleanor and Fergus stared at Loghain. 

“That was-”

“-lovely,” Eleanor said.  “If unexpected.”

“What, I can’t be eloquent?  I had years listening to Maric’s chatter to learn.  Had to pick up something.”

Anora and Eleanor looked at each other, as each began to laugh and cry at the same time.  Loghain sighed and rubbed his temple, while Fergus, still sniffing, cracked a smile.   “I think we passed some milestone tonight,” he said quietly, holding a hand out to his mother. 

Loghain stood.  “Let’s get it over with,” he muttered, holding out his arms.  “I spent enough time with your daughter to know when hugs are inevitable.  Let’s remember them, happily, not with so many regrets.”

Anora stood and let her father envelop her in a hug, while Fergus hugged his mum.  Loghain reached out with one arm, pulling Fergus and Eleanor into his embrace.  The four stood, arms around each other for some time.  Finally, Loghain released his hold.  He returned to his seat, while Fergus sat on the settle with his arm around his Mum.  Anora nodded to Erlina, who sat within sight in the next room, mending.  The elf brought more wine and ale for Anora to serve.

“Let’s each tell a story to remember our lost friends, family and loves,” Anora said.  “We’ll start with Lys.”  She raised her glass.  “To my good friend.  Fergus, you must have a tale.”

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere  ===  Cumberland**  

Swathed in gowns, wimples, veils and voluminous mantels, which hid their faces and figures as they billowed in the winter wind, three women made their way from the shallop, which had ferried them to shore from the _Wyvern_ , to the Haris Compound on the quay.  A day earlier, Captain Estrid had visited the Compound, with a note she insisted on hand-delivering to Lys’ cousin Samuel Haris.  Hearing that a Fereldan sea captain, a woman, wanted to meet him, Sam Haris had agreed, on the off chance she had some message from Eleanor.  Lys had banked on that reaction, enclosing her silver laurel leaf necklace with the note to convince her cousin she was, indeed, Lys, alive and needing his help.   Quickly agreeing, he suggested she and her friends arrive early, just before sunrise, and go to the rooms she had occupied as Layne Haris a few years before.  For now, awaiting more definite plans, Maric remained on board the _Wyvern_ with Estrid.

Entering Lys’ old rooms, the three women removed mantels and veils and congregated around the hearth where a fire burned brightly.  On a table nearby, cheese, slices of ham, and fresh bread lay on a tray, inviting them to break their fast.  On a brazier, a pot steamed with warm water.  The table also held cups and a pot with crushed herbs for tea.

“You go sit,” Kai said, touching Lys’ shoulder.  “Reina and I will get the tea.”

Lys nodded, settling her bulk into a chair near the hearth.  Her examination, a week earlier in Areth, had put her pregnancy at 34 weeks and her due date some time, using the Thedosian calendar, in late Firstfall.  Since leaving Highever she felt larger each day.  She had always been too warm in the Orphanage’s keep in Fereldan, but since they left Higheverport she had not been able to get warm.  The dampness of the ship had seeped into her bones.  Now, entering her eighth month, she felt ungainly, chilled and always tired.  A rejuvenation spell enveloped her and she smiled her thanks to Reina.  It helped a little.

“I needed that this morning.”  She took the cup Kai offered. 

“Bread?” Kai asked. 

“And some cheese, maybe.  It’s a soft cheese, isn’t it?”

Kai place a few slices of bread and cheese on a plate and set it on a small table by Lys’ chair.  “You…nothing’s happening with the babe?”

“No,” Lys said.  “He’s there, kicking, but no contractions or water.  I’ve got six weeks or more to go, Kai.  We’re here now, so it’s all good.  I’m just tired.  Six months or more of no exercise save climbing a flight of stairs a few times a day, has left me out of shape.  Once the babe’s born, I need to start training again.”  The small room in the keep had not allowed her to perform her forms.  Since Thomas objected to them, performing them on the roof, in full sight, was also impossible.

“We’re not much more fit,” Reina conceded.  “We’ll all be better now that we’re here.”

Before they had finished their tea, someone knocked on the door.  Kai opened it a crack to find Sam Haris outside. 

“Come in, Sieur Haris,” Kai invited, opening the door wide.  As Sam followed her, she introduced Reina and then offered him a seat across from Lys.

“Sorry, if I don’t rise, Sam, but,” she looked down and rubbed her hands over her rounded belly, “as you can see I’m carrying a bit of extra weight.”

“And you’re not dead,” Sam said, eyebrow raised.

“No, I’m not.  Kidnapped, held prisoner, escaped, and here I…well, we are.  No one else knows, Sam, and I’ll explain everything, but I need time to think, to plan, and then I can decide who to tell besides you.  Will you keep my secret until then?”

Sam nodded.  “What do you need Lys?”

“First, a room for Reina,” she nodded towards the mage.  “Kai and I can stay here, but she should have her own space.  I’ll need another room for the other prisoner who escaped with us.  A man.  Again, he needs his own space.  I know Satinalia approaches, but I hope you can help us.”

“Being winter, there’s no fair or market during Satinalia, so fewer merchants seeking rooms.  You can use the rooms on either side of this apartment.”  He looked at Kai.  “You know where the privy and baths are, Kai.”

“I’ll take Reina now and show her around.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Lys said.  “I would-”

“-stay and talk with Sieur Haris, Lys.  It’s fine.  I’ll take Reina to her room and then go back to the ship for our friend and some luggage.”

When the two elves had gone, Lys turned to Sam and told him her story, ending with a request that he hire Estrid to sail for House Haris.

“Maker Protect Us,” Sam said when Lys finished.  “That’s…I’m not sure a bard could concoct a tale like that.”

“You don’t believe me?” Lys sat up straight.

Sam held up his hands.  “I do, Lys.  Anyone else I might question, but, you,” he chuckled softly, “you I do believe.  I’ll help.  We’ll set up accounts, one from which I’ll return the money to Ferelden, another for you to use here, and one in Areth so you have sufficient money there, in addition to your allowance from the Travelers Council.  Accounts for Kai, Reina and Estrid too, and I’ll see she has contracts.”  He frowned.  “You’re sure they'll let Kai in?”

“No, not sure, but I think so.  I’ll need to go and find out once we settle in.  If I need to ask Aunt Liv for help I will.”

“Does Kai understand they’ll interview her?”

“Yes, well, she knows.  I’m not sure she understands completely, but I stipulated Liv had to be involved and they agreed.”   She grinned.  “I do have an ace up my sleeve, you see.  The baby’s grandmother is a mage.  I listed her as well as Maric and Kai.  That intrigued them, and, as a relation, they must let her in. If they want to interview _her_ , they need to ask.”

“A mage!”

“An elven mage.  She’s here in Cumberland.  I think you know her.  Senior Enchanter Fiona?”

“ _She_ _’s_ your Alistair’s mother?  Did he know?”

Lys smiled, lips pressed together.  “He knew and he met her.”

“Well, I understand, now, how interesting the Travelers Council will find your request.  An elven mage, who used to be a Grey Warden; an elf, who grew up in an Alienage, but lived with the Dalish; a former king who led a successful Rebellion; a Grey Warden father who slew an Archdemon; and you and your baby.”  He laughed.  “Only you Lys.”  He grew serious again.  “I understand not telling Fergus - the whole Regent responsibility and his anger.  He’s taken your death hard.  From what Eleanor writes he’s all grim duty and nothing else, but…well, I recommend you tell your Mum.  Or tell Liv and have her invite your Mum to Areth so you can tell her there.”

“I’ll think about it, Sam.  I need to think about a lot.”

They heard voices in the passage outside and both rose.  Kai entered with Maric behind her carrying his pack and Lys’.  Kai had her own.  Lys made introductions and Sam took Maric to his room and on a tour of the residential wing of the compound.  Kai and Lys sat down in front of the hearth.

“Are we really here?” Kai asked.

“Pinch me.  I’m not sure either,” Lys whispered.  “There’s a portal in the basement.  I need to go and check on everything.  It won’t take long.”

“Explain ‘it won’t take long,’” Kai said. 

Lys laughed.  “It won’t.  I can’t explain the mechanics of the portal - I’m not a scientist.  The portal moves what it transports through time and space.  I can return fifteen minutes after I leave in Thedas time.  It doesn’t matter how long I stay on Areth - one turn of the glass or years - I can return in fifteen or twenty minutes.

“But-” she held up her hand to stop Kai from speaking, ‘but, I will age while I’m here or there.  If I stay on in Areth for ten years, I’ll be ten years older when I return here.”  She grinned.   “You’d probably notice.  So, we manage our trips to account for aging.  Today I will return in quickly, because I’ll only be in Areth for a few days at most.”

“What’s a minute?” Kai asked.

“Oh, right - a brief period of time as it’s measured on Areth – fifteen minutes are about a quarter turn of the glass.”

“That explains things I noticed in Highever,” Kai said.  “Your hair would change, just slightly, but it would change.  Once you had color on your nails.”

“Yeah, hair’s hard.  I’d try to remember to have it pulled back before I left.  That was easiest to duplicate.”  She smiled.  “I remember the nails.  We all had them done and I just forgot to remove the polish before we left.  Fortunately, we kept a few emergency supplies by the portal.  I had to run back down and take the polish off.”

“It almost makes sense.”

“Good, almost is good for the first try.”  She reached across and took Kai’s hand.  “When you arrive, they have a class to introduce Areth to newcomers.  Ease you into it.  It’s very different.”  She hesitated for a moment.  “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to.  You’ve always done right for me.  Hiring me.  Taking me to the Dalish.  Taking me with you as a friend when we traveled.  I trust you, Lys.  You’re the one person in Thedas I do trust.”  She saw the slight frown.  “Zev has his own problems.  I trust him to keep me safe, but he can’t stand by me unless the Crows leave him alone.  It’s different.”   She stared at the coals in the hearth.  “We love each other, but not the same way you and Alistair do…did.”  She looked up at Lys.  “I could move on, if I never saw Zev again.  Or not, but not because he’s gone.”  She could tell Lys had begun preparing a rebuttal.  “We’re different Lys.  We had fewer expectations.  Our love is different.  Not better or worse, but I think I hurt less.  For one, I know he’s alive.”  

Lys opened her mouth, but did not speak, just nodded.  “Let me go and make arrangements then.  I can shower there, and nap and get clean clothes, as well as talk to the Council.  I may go see Aunt Liv.  I’ll decide after I sleep.  While I’m gone, tell Reina and Maric that I’m sleeping.  Worse case, if they see me when I come back, I’ll say I just had a bath.”

“In the meantime, shall I work with Sieur Samuel and Estrid and get the treasure transferred to the vaults here?”

“Would you?”

Kai wrinkled her nose.  “Of course.”

“Yes, please.  Then we can plan better.”

“Off you go then,” Kai said.  “Fly through the stars.”

Lys reached out and hugged her, something she had not done since before the Battle, and Kai, surprised, hugged back. 

“You are feeling better,” Kai said.

“I’m feeling hopeful for the first time in a very long time, Kai.”   She rubbed her belly.  “I wish with all my heart his Papa was here, but I have you and Maric and Fiona and my Mum, if I want her to know.  We’ll be safe.  I never expected to feel safe again.”  She kissed Kai on the cheek and went out the door.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine.  I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	6. Incomers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly in Areth - in Thedas it's 9:31 Dragon, Firstfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 6:  Incomers**

**Areth, Revona City**

Lys paced from one end of the conference room to the other.  At this point in her pregnancy, walking felt better than sitting, particularly when she could not put her feet up.  At least that would be what she would tell the others when they arrived, but, in truth, it helped her hide her anger and anxiety.  The day before, after more hours of questions and equivocation, an unexpected message, delivered late in the day, informed her that the Secretary of the Travelers Council would meet with her today at 14:00 hours, which left her with half a day to anticipate the denial of her request to bring Kai to Areth.  A litany of objections and arguments ran through her mind as she paced.  Each time she began voicing them aloud, she reined herself in.  It would not do to be seen talking to herself.  She peered through the frosted glass in the panel next to the door.  Shadows passed, but did not enter.  _At least they can_ _’t see me._

Lys stopped pacing and stood at the window looking out over the city of Revona.  ZIPs sped along ground routes carrying citizens to and from work, school, shops, and home.  One was carrying her Aunt Olivia to the meeting from the Cousland-Burke townhouse where Liv resided.  Few people had PVs or personal vehicles, preferring to use the underground U-Tranzs or GroundZIPs which showed up on demand and carried passengers along the quickest route to the requested destination.  For longer distances, Arethians used AirZIPs or shared surface or air commercial transportation.  High speed Tranzs, running on their air cushioned tracks, and Planzes, flying faster and at higher altitudes than AirZIPs, carried citizens throughout the planet.  Interplanetary travel for pleasure and commerce departed from hubs outside of Areth’s major cities.  Lys could see a transport rising in the distance from the Revona SpacePort. 

The city itself spread out below the hill on which the Travelers Council Building stood.  High-rise residential and commercial buildings clustered around the base of the hill.  Beyond this core, lower buildings extended for miles in all directions, interspersed with green spaces and parks.  When the refugees from a distant planet they called Earth had arrived centuries ago, they had endeavored to avoid the mistakes which had caused their flight.  Myths of that distant world told of poisoned water and air, violent storms, spreading deserts, failed governments, and the planet taken over by oligarchic business tycoons who hoped to restore some semblance of governance and economic stability as political leadership failed.  The refugees, a small number of scientists, doctors, artisans, teachers and artists had fled, hoping to reach a distant planet they believed would support life.  Somehow, they had made it to Areth where the incomers had asked for refuge on the lightly settled planet and been cautiously welcomed by the humanoid inhabitants.  The two peoples had intermingled and intermarried in that distant past, blurring any differences which once separated them and turning stories of Earth into a mythology of how not to live.

A few days before, when she arrived in Areth, Lys had called her Aunt from her room in the Council hostel.  The family townhouse provided far better accommodations than the spartan ones in the hostel and she had been tempted to stay with her aunt, but she had taken a room in the Council building rather than showing up, unannounced, at Olivia’s door.  Liv had been stunned to see Lys’ face on her vid screen, but recovered quickly, agreeing not to mention Lys’ survival to anyone without Lys’ approval.  As she made the promise, Lys had seen her aunt’s eyes narrow, but the thought behind those eyes did not escape Liv’s lips.  _She wants me to contact Mum._  Lys had counted on her Aunt Olivia’s patience and trust.  She would tell Liv the whole story…eventually, but right now she needed her aunt’s help on one specific issue: bringing a Thedosian elf, unrelated to any Arethian, to Areth.  Permission depended on the value the Travelers Council saw in the individual.   She asked Liv to help her get approval for Kai.

After receiving the invitation to meet with the Secretary, Lys had texted her aunt, asking her to attend too.  Liv immediately replied that she would be there and suggested they arrive early so they could talk further.  Lys guessed her Aunt had let the staff know they would arrive early when they graciously provided refreshments and let her use her CTab, her personal communications tablet, a privilege not always granted in the secure confines of the Council’s headquarters.  When she texted Liv, her aunt had simply replied that she was on her way.  Lys hoped a call from her aunt to the Secretary had resulted in this meeting, but feared it meant a denial of her request, with no hope for appeal.  Certainly, none of her experience up to now had given her reason to hope. 

After hours of interviews and explanations, the Council members with whom Lys had spoken on her first visit had continued to equivocate and refuse to approve her request.  _I think,_ she had told Liv, _that they believe I_ _’ll give up._   Instead a message had popped up on her screen late the day before telling her that the _issue_ had been elevated to the Secretary.  This would be it.  The top of the pyramid.  The Secretary’s decisions left no room for appeals.   

Lys looked at the time on the CTab display.  It was only 13:10.   She took a sip of water and nibbled on a slice of apple, once more wondering why she had come so early.  Still restless, she crossed to the window, wondering if would see her Aunt at the entrance below.  As Lys squeezed a lemon slice into her second glass of seltzer water, the door behind her opened and her aunt entered.  Lys turned, chewing on her lower lip, and waited.  Olivia, smiling, came around the table, held out her arms and took Lys’ hands in hers.

“Well, you _are_ pregnant,” Liv said, grinning.  “I didn’t get the full wide-angle view on the screen last night.”  Lys laughed, as Liv touched her cheek. “You look well.”

“I am.  I’m sorry our vid was so short last night, but-”

“-it’s a very long tale and should be told in person.”  Liv leaned against the table.  “I’m not Fergus or your mum, Lys.  I’ll not doubt you or treat you like child.  I’m quite sure you have good reasons for leaving Thedas and bringing your friends here, particularly Kai.  I’m anxious to meet her, you know; I’ve heard so much about her from you, Eleanor and…Oriana.”

“Once we’re here and safe, I can make further plans, but right now I…we can’t remain in Thedas.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Liv said, as she motioned to the chairs.  “Let’s sit.”  Once Lys settled, Liv continued.  “The Council has allowed such exceptions in the past, although never for Thedas, which is a point in our favor.  They don’t like to make too many exceptions for any one place.”

“It’s not a bad sign that the decision is up to the Secretary?”

“If the answer was no, we wouldn’t be having this meeting.  Alexandra will have reviewed reports and recommendations from everyone who’s interviewed you, as well as my input.”

Lys blew out a breath and visibly relaxed.  “Alexandra?”

“She happens to be a friend.”  Liv smiled.  “My input will have some weight, but that’s all I can promise.”  She grinned as she saw the cloth of Lys’ tunic move.  “You didn’t say when you’re due.”

“Oh…end of Firstfall, but that’s meaningless here.  Um…four or five weeks, according to the docs I spoke with yesterday.”

“And a boy.”

“Ali would have been happy with a boy or a girl, but I guess I like the idea of a little Ali, although I won’t name him after his father or either grandfather.  I’m thinking of William, after Papa’s father.”  

“ _Fearchar_ _’s_ a bit too unique?”  Liv smirked as she said her father’s name with a perfect Storm Coast accent.  She had left Long’s Reach just after her seventh nameday, to keep her safe during the Rebellion, but had kept her fluency in the Storm Coast dialect.  Her father’s bann had passed to Eleanor after their brother’s death at White River and one day would pass to Melysande.

Lys opened her mouth, but hesitated, before smiling and nodding yes.  “Particularly if we try to return to Thedas, but not Ferelden.  William doesn’t label him a Fereldan as _Fearchar_ would.”

“A reason both Eleanor and I use our mother’s surname, Burke, rather than _MacEanraig_ when in Nevarra…well, at least when one of us wasn’t being a pirate.”

As they spoke, the door opened to admit Secretary Alexandra Simonov and her Deputy, Marc Mesny.  Liv stood and greeted the Secretary, as Alexandra reached across the table to shake her hand, and then shook the hand of Deputy Mesny.  Before Lys could stand, Liv introduced her.  Secretary Simonov waved her hand, as Lys tried to lever herself up. 

“I think we can skip the handshakes, Ms. Cousland-Theirin.  Please stay seated.  I understand you’ve already been to see the doctors and both you and the baby are well, despite your recent ordeal.”  Noticing the quick, sidelong glance Olivia gave Lys, the Secretary continued.  “You have not yet told your aunt?”

“Not the complete story, Secretary Simonov.  It’s long and not one I enjoy reliving.  We’ll get to it, but it’s easier with my companions present.”

“Ah, yes, I can see where that would be true.  Well, clearly the baby’s grandfather and both grandmothers may come.  Interesting that the paternal grandmother is an elf and a mage.  I hope she will speak with Liv, but,” the Secretary shrugged, “it must be her choice.  Your friend, however, is no relation.”

Lys heart sank.  “No.  If I had a sister, she would be no closer to me than Kailian is, but,” she held up her hand to forestall the comment she saw forming in the Deputy’s mind, “I understand that my emotional ties have no bearing, Deputy Mesny.  Her experiences do, though.  I’ll defer to my aunt to explain how Kai might increase our knowledge of the elves - both Alienage and Dalish - and of Ferelden during the Blight.”

“She could provide invaluable knowledge,” Olivia said.  “We’ve never had an elf incomer.  It’s rare to find an elf who trusts humans enough to be open to questions, even when we visit Thedas.  We can learn so much from one who will speak openly and perhaps even join our expeditions.  I do agree with Lys, that I should be the lead interviewer and protect Kai’s interests.  Nor should this be a conditional agreement.  Once here, Kai should have full rights as an incomer, no different from any other relative from any settled world.  This time should be no different than any other time we’ve approved allowing non-relations to come Areth before, Sasha,” Liv said, using the Secretary’s nickname.

The Assistant looked at the Secretary.  “We’ve done this before?  Let in outlanders not related to a Traveler?”

Alexandra sighed.  “You know we have Marc.  Or do you mean, not human?”

Lys opened her mouth, then thought better of it and did not speak.

“Of course not, but those incomers were always from more advanced cultures, Secretary, making it more likely they can adjust to life here.”

“So…humans from Thedas are advanced enough, but not elves?”  Olivia asked.

Her Deputy opened his mouth, but thought better of whatever comment he had intended.

“Where did you do you years of service, Deputy Mesny?”

“Here.”

“But you’ve been off-world?”

The young man shifted uncomfortably.  It was not the first time this question had been asked of him. 

“No?”  Secretary Simonov frowned.  “I was not told that when you became one of my deputies.”  Eyes narrowing, she only said, “We’ll speak in my office when we finish here.”  The Secretary turned to Liv.  “I’m sorry, Dr. Burke.  Ms. Cousland-Theirin.  It seems we’ve been less open-minded about this request than appropriate.”  She looked through the documents.  “We don’t pay as much attention to Thedas as we should sometimes.”

“It’s a backward land,” Lys said, trying to control her temper.  “Hardly worth your attention.”

Secretary Simonov bit her lip.  “Sadly, some here may have that bias, but I would hope,” she glanced at her Deputy, “that any bias here relates to Kailian Tabris not being a relative, rather than her race or home world. Neither concerns me.  I approve of your request. I see no issue with allowing Kailian Tabris, an elf born in Ferelden, Thedas, to immigrate, live on Areth, and have full use of the portals if or when she chooses to return to her native Thedas.”

“That’s it?”  Lys said.  “I…sorry.  Thank you, Secretary Simonov.”

“You will explain the agreement to your friend?  That she will be interviewed and we will have some expectation of cooperation from her?”

“We,” Lys looked at her aunt who nodded, “Aunt Olivia and I will explain it, Secretary.  Kai will agree, I’m certain.  Thank you for agreeing to my stipulation that Liv be the interviewer.”

“That wasn’t hard.  Liv would be the obvious choice.”  The Secretary rose, but stopped at the door, waving her Deputy ahead of her.  ““Good luck, Ms. Cousland-Theirin.  I hope you and your family find the safety and peace you seek.  I, by the way, would be most interested in what your friend has to tell us.  I’d love to meet her.”  She grinned.  “And your father-in-law.  I know a bit of Ferelden history.  He’s quite the hero.”

Lys hesitated, surprised, before replying with a grin.  “He is that, but he prefers to be plain Mr. Theirin here.  Perhaps you’ll come for dinner, Secretary, and meet them both.”

“I would love to,” she said and left, followed by her Deputy.

Lys, her hands on the arms of the chair, pushed herself up. 

“Anti-climactic?” Liv asked.

“Definitely.  I’ve answered so many questions.   I don’t have my diaries, so I had to write out what I remembered since…since Howe attacked the castle.  They had Mum’s story, but nothing from me.  Pippa and I visited a few months ago from Highever, but only for supplies, not a debriefing or diary drop-offs.”  She blew out another breath.  “I really thought they’d say no.  The interviewers and Deputy Mesny…well they didn’t make _me_ feel welcome, questioned why it had taken me so long to report in, as if we had some schedule to meet, much less indicating they would accept Kai.   It’s never been like that before.”  She took one last drink and threw the cup into the recycling bin.  “I know they have to be careful, but I felt like I might actually be turned away.  I do think the Secretary is right.  Kai not being related kept coming up, not that she’s an elf.   They also had so many questions about the Blight.  I think they feared I would infect them, even though I’m vaccinated and can’t carry or transmit it.”  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  “Ok, it’s over.  Moving on.  I’ll go back tomorrow and talk to Kai.  If all goes well we’ll return right away.”

“Lys, stop making lists for now.  Let me take you home, soak in a tub, have a good meal and, if you want, talk.  I’m still overwhelmed by what little I know.  King Maric?  Alive, and Alistair’s father!  Alistair’s mother an elven mage.  You with child.  Your request to bring Kai seems ordinary compared to the rest.”  She held out her hand.  “Let’s go.  We’ll stop by your room and get your things and then hail a ZIP and go home.”

As the GroundZIP stopped in front of Lys and Olivia outside the Travelers Council building, Lys began laughing.  “How will I explain all this?  A ZIP - that has no meaning to them.  A cart with no horse or mule?”  She clambered into one side of the vehicle while Olivia climbed into the other.  She settled into the seat, fastening the safety belt, as Liv stated their destination and the ZIP took off towards the townhouse.

“Fortunately,” Liv said, “you won’t have to explain it all.  There is an orientation at the Council building, after the medical examination and before the shopping trip and tour. It includes a history vid and a vid of life today on Areth.”

“Shopping trip?”

“Oh, you didn’t come with Oriana on her first visit, did you?  Yes, any incomer gets a CTab, credits, and a shopping trip to buy Arethian clothes on the last day of orientation.  The trip includes a tour of Revona City.  It’s quite popular.”

“So, I can go too?”

“You can sit in with them through the whole process, Lys.  I’ll join you if you want, in case they don’t attend all the same programs.  Will it be just King Maric and Kailian?  Or will Fiona join them?”

“Just Maric and Kai at first.”  She grinned.  “At least he can be Maric here and not some stupid alias.  We’ve been calling him Maren.  And it’s plain Maric, Liv, not King anything, just Mr. Theirin.”

“Ah, that makes sense…and here we are.”

The ZIP stopped in front of the townhouse, an old building, several stories tall, in a neighborhood just outside the central city.  Lys and Liv climbed the steps to the front door, where Lys put a hand on Liv’s wrist. 

“I won’t find any surprises inside, will I?”

Liv frowned, realizing her niece had learned to distrust everyone during the past year.  “No, Lyssie, no surprises.  Just Felix,” she added, as barking sounded through the heavy door.

**x==========x**

Sitting on an upholstered couch, her feet up on its matching hassock, Lys sipped tea from a pottery mug, as Felix curled up beside her, his nose tucked under his tail.  She had told Liv her story after they arrived home over an earlier cup of tea.  Once told, she had left Olivia to absorb the tale, and gone off to take a long bath with scented soaps, bath oil and bubbles.  It seemed as if months of grime sloughed off as she scrubbed and soaked.  Toweling herself dry, she realized she felt clean for the first time since before the Final Battle. 

Upon returning to the living area, she poured another cup of tea, knowing she would regret all the liquids, but wanting the comfort the warm lemony ginger blend offered.  Good smells wafted from the kitchen where Liv placed fresh vegetables on the counter, ready to be chopped into a salad.

“Liv…um, I have another favor to ask.  Two actually.”

Liv looked up from chopping vegetables for a salad, to see Lys’ brows drawn together. 

“The doctors said they would prefer I not travel until after the birth.  They didn’t forbid it, but-“

“-you’re thinking it would be best not to go back?  Lys, I was going to go with you, so I’ll just go alone.  Sam and I can handle everything.  You can write notes to Kai and Maric.  Take a picture of the two of us together or we can take a vid.”  She smiled, shaking her head as Lys took a deep breath and blew it out.  “You did well today, by the way, not admitting you had already told Kai about Areth, even though I’m sure Sasha…Alexandra that is, realizes you have.  That’s good, because I suspect I won’t have to explain CTabs, vids and such.”

Lys smirked. “CTabs and vids will be new, but not pictures or music.”

“What a surprise,” Liv chuckled.  “Now what’s number two?”

“Well, there’s a second part to number one.  Can you speak with Fiona too?  You met her didn’t you, with Mum, before you left for Haris Manor with Elin?  She’ll trust your word.  Sam arranged for her to talk to Reina and get her settled somewhere, and told her about me being alive, but I didn’t get a chance to meet her to tell her about the baby…or Maric.”

“I can do that.”  Liv put the chopped vegetables in a bowel with greens and began tossing.  “And number two?”

“I want Mum here for the birth.  Just Mum.  Not Pippa.  Not Fergus.”

Liv’s smile told Lys how relieved she was not to have to keep a secret from her sister.

“I know Mum will keep us secret and understand why we need to stay that way.  I’m not sure that Pippa and Fergus’ duties and connections won’t take precedence and demand they tell someone.  Loghain, Anora, Nate - they can’t know Maric is alive or what Thomas did or that I carry Alistair’s baby.  They won’t intend to put us in danger, but they will, they’ll try to fix it or take revenge, and Tevinters or Orlesians will find out.”

“I understand.  Pippa’s husband is a Howe, isn’t he?”

“Nate is fine-”

“-exactly.  He would feel guilty about his brother’s actions, just as I assume he does about his father.”

Lys smiled and relaxed against the cushions, as she ran the fingers of one hand through Felix’s fur.  “And Fergus…he seems to accept Nate, but I’m not sure if this wouldn’t push him past his point of acceptance.  Maybe Mum will tell us Fergus is fine, but he wasn’t last time I saw him.”

“And your loss may have pushed him closer to that edge, Lys.”

“I know.  Both me and Ali.”

“Your Mum spends a lot of time in Denerim.  It’s one of the reasons we haven’t met since I brought Elin back to Ferelden.  It may take time to reach her.”

“Right, no portal there, but Sam could get a message to her.  He has birds and so does Pippa.  He can invite her to Cumberland - Haris business or something.”

“I’ll ask what’s quickest.”  Lys got up to set the table as Liv made the salad dressing.  “I look forward to meeting Kai.  I’ll make sure she and Maric know you’re OK.”

“You’re the best, Aunt Liv.   Maybe Fiona can come later with Mum?”

**9:31 Dragon, FirstFall  ===  Cumberland**

“I was going to ask Lys how much older she was?” Kai said, after Olivia introduced herself to the elf and Maric as Melysande’s aunt.  “She’s only been gone for a half-turn of the glass.”

“A few days,” Liv replied, “and she’s fine, but the doctor recommended she not travel again until the little guy is born.”

“So, she will have him in Areth?”

“Yes.  It’s safer, Kai – and Cumberland isn’t home for her.  It’s not Highever.”

“Highever isn’t Highever,” Kai said, a slight frown appearing. 

“No, it has too many memories, even if she believed it safe.  In Areth, the baby will be born in a birthing center, but when he leaves with his Mum he’ll have a familiar home and family, including you both, to welcome him.”  She looked at Maric, who had remained silent after viewing the note and vid from Lys, which asked them to go with Liv.  He nodded, but remained silent.  Olivia decided to focus on Kai and assume Maric would speak when ready.  Looking at the elf, she said, “Now let’s go over what you can expect.  May I call you Kai?”

“That’s my name,” Kai said and then realized it sounded rude.  “Yes, you may, and you probably already know my full name is Kailian Tabris.”

“I do.  Mine is Dr. Olivia Burke, but please call me Liv.”

“Doctor?”

“Not medical, although I do know some basic healing.  It’s a title which indicates I’ve achieved a certain level of education.”

“Right.”

 “Lys says you study us,” Maric said, finally speaking from his seat by the hearth.  “As an…anthropologist?  And you can call me Maric.   There’s no need for an alias in this Areth, is there?”

“No need, Maric, and, yes, anthropology is my specialty,” Liv said.  “We study the culture of a country or society and how it changes over time.  Usually, I ask the questions, but, now, you should ask any questions you need to.  Especially you Kai.  Make sure you’re comfortable before you make your final decision.”

“She’s having the baby in Areth and I can go there and come back, right?” Kai asked, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You can come back and forth,” Liv answered. 

“Then there’s no question.  I join her there.  An ‘incomer,’ you call us, right?”  Liv nodded.  “When do we go?”

“As soon as I know Reina’s settled.”

“Senior Enchanter Fiona is in with Reina now,” Maric said.  “Apparently, Sieur Haris contacted her right after Lys spoke with him and she arrived just after Lys left.  She hasn’t seen me yet.  She’ll come back after she speaks with Reina and I’ll speak with her.”

Kai told Liv she had taken Fiona to meet Reina, and left them to discuss how Fiona could help.  Before Kai left them, Reina had told Fiona that she wanted to return to a Circle if she could do so safely.  She didn’t care where.  Fiona had thought that the Nevarra City Circle would be best, since it was not visited by other mages very often. 

“So many Senior Enchanters,” Fiona had told Reina, “visit the College at the Cumberland Circle.” 

At that Kai had said “ _Wynne,_ _”_ and Fiona chuckled, agreeing that the Senior Enchanter enjoyed meddling in College politics and would be likely to show up, which would put Reina in danger of discovery.  To avoid that, Fiona would focus on creating a believable story for the Knight-Commanders in Cumberland and Nevarra City.  She mentioned the Starkhaven Circle, suggesting Reina might be a mage who escaped the fire there and had made her way to Cumberland.  With a letter from Fiona and the Knight-Commander in Cumberland, Reina could go north to the Nevarra City Circle with a Haris caravan.

At that point, Kai had left the two mages to work out the details.  “Too bad Jowan didn’t destroy her phylactery,” Kai said to Liv, “but as far as anyone here will know, it is gone with all the rest from Starkhaven.”  Kai wrinkled her nose.  “Sorry, a phylactery is-“

“No worries, Kai.  I know the term and, from what I know of the Circle, I doubt anyone in Ferelden will look for her now, after so much upheaval and death, but the farther from Ferelden she is the better.” Liv said.  When Kai’s eyebrows rose, Liv added, “Lys expressed some concern about this Jowan.”

“She’s always wondered if Jowan would work out as a warden,” Kai said.  “She felt something a little off with him, but Liam seemed to think he’d do.”

Nodding towards the door, Liv asked Kai to invite Fiona in to talk.  “We need to tell her about Lys and Areth.   You’re all approved as incomers.” 

“And about me,” Maric said, leaving, but promising to return to meet Fiona.

A short time later, Kai returned with Fiona and introduced Liv.  The mage’s eyes narrowed.  “Where is Melysande?”

“And therein lies a tale,” Kai said.

Fiona frowned.  “What tale?”

“A tale of other worlds, Senior Enchanter.  Liv has something called a vid she wants to show you.  It’s a message from Lys, who is in a place called Areth.”  Kai held up the CTab Liv had brought and placed it on a table, the screen facing a chair. “You should sit first.” Sitting on the edge of the wooden chair, Fiona’s eyes widened as Lys appeared on the screen and began to talk.  As she spoke briefly about Areth, the view receded, and Fiona could see her pregnant bulge.

“-it’s Alistair’s,” Lys said in the vid, pressing her hands against her belly.  “You’ll be a grandmother, Fiona.  It’s why I especially want you to come and visit.”

“How?”  Fiona managed to ask as the vid ended.

“That’s a big question,” Kai said smiling.  She received a sidelong glance from Fiona, but the mage also smiled.

“Let me try to answer,” Olivia said.  “First, there’s what we Arethians call a portal, a path to this other world, Areth. It’s not magic, it’s science based.  There’s no magic on Areth, so you may feel…odd…when you’re there, Fiona.  I’m not sure you’ll feel your mana.  But it’s also safe.  There are no Orlesians or Tevinters.   Not even Travelers from either place.   There are no portals in Orlais or Tevinter.  Thedosian Travelers are from Ferelden, Nevarra, the Marches and Antiva.”

Fiona leaned back in her chair as Olivia spoke.  “Orlesians may be a threat to Lys and the baby, but why would Tevinters care about Lys and her child?  Why can’t her family protect her?”

“That would be my fault, Fiona.”  Maric had walked into the room behind the mage, locking the door behind him.

Fiona stood and turned as he spoke.  “Maric!”  She grabbed the back of the chair beside her and Maric’s lips quirked as her fingers frosted.

“Bad copper.”  Maric said softly.  He pointed to one of the chairs by the hearth.  “Please sit, Fiona, and warm up your fingers.   I’ll explain my part in this.”

Fiona looked from Maric to Liv to Kai, frowning, but sat, saying, “Melysande left a few things out of her…vid.”

“It’s a long story, Senior Enchanter,” Kai said.  “Better we all sit together and give you the full version.”

“Please do.”  She looked at Maric, who had taken the other seat by the hearth.  “You can at least tell me how you came to be here?”

“Rendon Howe held me in a windowless cell for six years.  Every month he would take my blood for the use of some magister in Tevinter.”

“Your blood?”

“Blood of the dragon,” Kai said, taking a seat on the stool beside Maric’s chair.  “The old tale of Calenhad drinking dragon’s blood.”

“Which I think is true.  At least, Flemeth believes it to be true,” Maric said.

“The Witch of the Wilds?” Fiona asked.  “This story slides into the realm of fantasy.”

Maric chuckled.  “Fiona, you have no idea.  Do you believe we can travel through the stars as Lys suggested?”

“I don’t know.”  She leaned against the back of the chair and rested her now thawed hands on the arms.  “I’ve…” she looked at Maric, “we’ve seen some fantastic sights, but traveling to other worlds?”

“Well,” Maric said, “Lys tells us this Areth is a land where carts move themselves and no one rides horses.”

Fiona rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile.  “No wonder you want to go there.”

Kai slipped out to get a meal delivered, anticipating a long afternoon and evening.  _Good thing Olivia is there too; she_ _’ll certainly help explain Areth._

Several hours later, Fiona stood.  “I won’t deny my head is spinning.”  She looked at Maric.  “And, I will say this once, but it must be said: I will always wonder why you did not put Alistair with a family in Highever.  Or even in Gwaren with Loghain.  Much as I dislike the man, he was loyal to you, to a fault.”

“Because I was a fool.  That the Couslands knew the identity of both Alistair’s parents made me uncomfortable.  It gave them power over me, particularly if Alistair stayed in Highever, and that concerned me. I knew Bryce and Eleanor, but they weren’t family, as Eamon was.  Eamon never knew you were Alistair’s mother.  And I thought Eamon a better man than he proved to be.   As for Loghain…he hated my part in the Deep Roads adventure and relationship with you.  How could I entrust him with our son?  I don’t apologize for Dragon’s Peak, however, although I never intended him to become a templar, only that he have the best education available in Ferelden.”

“And after the first months he said that he came to enjoy it,” Kai said quietly.  “It wasn’t until the Chantry took him to Denerim that it all went wrong.  He believed that was Orlais’ doing.”  She looked at Maric.  “That would never have happened had Howe not captured you.”

“No, it would not have.  I planned to acknowledge him and betroth him to Lys.  He’d have been a knight and a bann and lived what passes for a normal life.”

“And he would never have become a warden?”  Fiona asked.

“There would have been no need,” Kai said, “but Loghain’s two years away didn’t help either.  He left Cailan and Anora alone.  There’s blame to go around, Lys would say.”

“But, had I left him with the Couslands, he would be alive,” Maric said.

“Would he?” Liv said.  “What would Cailan have done if Alistair had been acknowledged?  We’ll never know, but it’s not only your decisions that affected Alistair’s fate.”

“It all goes back to my original bad choice.”

“No,” Fiona said, walking over to Maric, who sat slumped in his chair.  “Any of this could have happened, even if Alistair had gone to Highever as a babe.”  She laid a hand hesitantly on his shoulder and he covered it with his own larger one.  “Now we need to keep you and our grandchild safe.  It seems the child’s mother has a good plan.”

“Will you come to Areth when we’re settled?” Liv asked.

“Try and keep me away.”  She smiled.

“You will have no magic,” Liv reminded her.

“Perhaps that will be a blessing.”  She squeezed Maric’s shoulder.  “It’s good to find you alive and safe, old friend.”

Even with Maric seated, Fiona’s head barely stood above his own.  He looked up to meet her eyes.  “And you, Fiona.”

“I will arrange for Reina to join the Nevarra City circle,” Fiona said.  “It’ s a powerful circle, but, being in the capital city, one focused more on Nevarra, with few visitors.  Once I have her settled, I’ll visit you.  Will Melysande tell Eleanor?”

“Yes.  Sam’s sending a bird today, asking Eleanor to visit him here,” Liv said.  “We’ll tell her once she arrives.”

“I’m glad.  She’s lost so much…she should not lose this child too, simply because Melysande won’t tell her.”  Fiona sighed.  ”Will Sieur Haris know how to reach you?”

“He will.  We’ll look forward to seeing you and introducing you to the baby,” Liv said.  Fiona squeezed Maric’s shoulder and left.

While Kai and Maric packed their belongings away for Samuel to store, Liv left the brief note Lys had written for Reina, telling her that Kai, Maren and she must leave.  Kai, as she promised, had helped divide the treasure, allocating some into accounts for themselves, some into another for Reina, and leaving the bulk with Samuel Haris, to distribute to Highever, Amaranthine and the Regents.  The gold could be used in Thedas or Areth to fund their lives.

Maren – who could be Maric again in Areth, Kai, Olivia, and Sam went to the portal, where Olivia went through first.  Sam then sent Maric and Kai through to where Olivia waited. 

**Areth, Revona City**

“I didn’t realize how long a vid could be,” Kai said to Lys. “Or that those flying things could take pictures.   I feel a little dizzy.”  She looked at Lys.  “No wonder you like high places.  They remind you of here.”

Lys chuckled.  “I never thought of it that way, but, maybe?”

Lys and Olivia had joined Maric and Kai during their orientation sessions, but remained mostly silent, leaving the Council experts to follow their process.  Orientation for the Fereldans had included old style videos, not holograms or immersive three-dimensional vids, which the two incomers would find too disorienting.  Just seeing views of the ground from an AirZIP or VidDrone tended to make earthbound incomers unsettled.  Between vids, they attended lecture and discussion sessions with experts.  The initial vid Maric and Kai saw gave a simple, high level history and overview of Areth today.  It related that the descendants of those early almost mythical peoples had, for the most part, adhered to the rules those original Arethians and the refugees from that other planet had laid out.  Their ruling body, a Parliamentary type government, had ensured that education, health care, housing, and a basic income formed a safety net which would allow all citizens to thrive and pursue education and work that mattered to them. 

This safety net did not come without obligations.  All citizens living on Areth, from age eighteen, served for two years, either in the military, on farms, as health care workers, teachers or in some other capacity.  Often, citizens volunteered for more service in their later years.   All paid taxes.  Like any society, Areth had businesses, hospitals, schools, mines, farms, artisans and artists.  Its people lived in cities, towns, villages and in the countryside.  They knew of fossil fuels, but powered their world with solar, geothermal, wind, water, hydrogen, and atomic power.  Long ago, they had developed energy storage systems and safe disposal of depleted resources.  They had no wish to despoil their beautiful planet; they relied on science, interchanges with their Alliance partners, and their own inventiveness to keep it safe, beautiful and prosperous. 

Maric and Kai learned that the Arethians had explored nearby planets and as those other cultures had reached out to them, an alliance of like-minded people of disparate races evolved. Arethians, like their neighbors, respected science and education, retained a voice in their government and remained vigilant about protecting their environment.  They encouraged exploration and establishing good relations and trade with their neighboring planets.  Not that there weren’t conflicts, crime, sickness and discord; there were.  Each planet had its military, and police.   But the main thrust of the civilization, of which Areth was only one planet, emphasized mutual benefits and cooperation.  For the most part, it worked, based on a centuries old treaty overseen by a Planetary Council with representatives from each planet.  Areth’s Council building sat on a hill a mile to south of the Travelers Council.  Both overlooked the city.

The two Fereldans had seen vids of the city, the country side, and the SpacePort with a few minutes of space vids at the end, showing some of the allied planets.  Seeing ZIPS, Tranzs, Planzs, and Space Cruisers moving on the ground or in the air had disoriented the two incomers, even with the preparation Lys had provided.  The central heat and cooling, water flowing from taps, hot baths and showers and toilets had been easier to accept, as were the people of Areth.  Some people on the street from Areth looked like the humans of Thedas, while others, who represented different races of the Planetary Alliance, looked different.  All were humanoid, but their physical appearance differed as much as that am among dwarves, humans, qunari, and elves on Thedas.  The differences piqued the curiosity of the two Fereldans, but they held their questions, confident that Liv and Lys would explain further.

Finally, Maric and Kai learned why the Couslands lived in Ferelden.  Traveling, while available to all the Planets in the Alliance, became the specialty of Areth.  For some reason, curiosity about other civilizations and cultures drove Arethians to explore.  Only Areth sent its citizens to settle on other planets, making those faraway places home.  It only worked because the Travelers Council oversaw the far-flung outposts, maintained the portal network, and adhered to the Rule.  The Council removed Travelers who introduced advanced ideas and technology to their adopted world. 

Chewing on her lower lip, Lys had wondered about that punishment and how much the Council knew about her distribution of Blight pills. _I haven_ _’t done anything that introduced any ideas or technology.  Fereldans can’t make the pills.  Surely the Council knew I would hand out the Blight pills when I requested so many.  It’s not like I found some way to immunize everyone in Thedas and then did it._   _The Rule allows us to save lives with medicines, provided it looks like a native method.  Easier done in Thedas than on some other worlds, because you can give credit to magic._ She settled back into her chair and decided not to worry about it. 

Coming from Highever, with its textile industry and trade, the clothing had fascinated Kai.  Women in the vids either wore breeches, some loose and some quite form fitting, or gowns of varying length, while hair covering seemed optional, and some clothing revealed more of the body than any respectable Thedosian would allow.  Kai had grinned.  _Zev would love the view!  And Ali would blush._ Her expression grew more serious, at that thought and the next.  _Now I see what Oriana loved about this place!  Fantastic fabrics and styles._

Maric did ask a question, wondering what sorts of weapons they used, since he saw no one carrying knives, swords, or staffs.  That question led to a discussion of the planet’s defense and government.  Maric had been intrigued, but Kai began to yawn, and the young professor who had joined them to answer his question promised Maric they would continue their discussion later.  The vids, medical exam, and introductory meetings took most of two days, but Lys and Liv had stayed with them to answer questions and provide support.

After the final session, a Council rep took Maric and Kai to be outfitted in clothes and receive their welcome package.  Kai returned grinning, outfitted in deep blue leggings and a blue, white and yellow print tunic that reached mid-thigh.  Soft leather ankle boots and a long blue and white striped silk scarf completed the outfit.  She carried a large cloth satchel.  

“They’ve given us CTabs,” Kai said, excited, “and I’ve been looking at the shopping sites and the archery range.  Did you know I can practice anytime?”

“You can practice at the house, Kai.  Like all good Fereldan nobles, we have a range in the back garden.”

“But you aren’t nobles here.”

“No, but we’re, not wealthy, but comfortable and we bring some of our habits with us.  We’ve had the land for centuries.  When my Cousland ancestors, Melysande and Jadyn, became Travelers, they left family behind.  At some point Mum’s Burke ancestors became a Travelers, and later Burkes intermarried with Sam’s family, who are also Travelers, in Nevarra.  Then Mum’s mother, a Burke, married _Fearchar MacEanraig_ , the bann of Long’s Reach in the Coastlands.  Then Mum married Papa.  Both families have done well in Thedas and here.  We trade in both worlds and that helps support us here and in Thedas.  Trade runs in our blood I guess.  We also have land outside the city that we farm and the town house here.  It’s a large house the Couslands and Burkes share.  Right now, only Aunt Olivia lives in the Revona City townhouse.  Its where we all stay when we visit and where we’ll go tonight.  Sort of the Traveling Couslands’ and Burkes’ home away from Ferelden.”

“Oh.”  Kai took a deep breath.

Lys chuckled.  “More family history than you wanted to know?”

“More than I expected, but it explains a lot, so I’m glad you told me.”

Liv looked at Maric.  “You’re quiet, Mr. Theirin.”

He snorted.  “Mr. Theirin.  That’s better than Your Majesty or my lord, but let’s just use Maric.  Both of you, please.”

Lys shook her head, grinning.  “No.  I’m opting for Gramps.”

Maric laughed.  “That title works, too.”  He shook his head.  “Honestly?  I’m still absorbing all this new information.”

“Me too,” Kai said, “but I’m also looking forward to getting out into this new world.”  She grinned at Lys.  “Just think, a new place with no dangers!  Just new things.”

Lys mouth quirked, but did not quite achieve a smile.  “There are dangers.  Speeding ZIPs for example.  Just no one attacking you.”  Her brow furrowed.  “There are criminals Kai.  Not many, but robbery does happen and-”

“-the rep told us that,” Maric said.  “There are guards you call police, right?”

Lys and Liv nodded yes. 

“So still safer than Thedas in most ways?”

Olivia agreed and suggested they venture forth.  They still had time to shop, although the formal tour of the city and surrounding area would happen on the following day.   She took Kai under her wing, promising to meet Lys and Maric back at the townhouse for dinner.  Maric stared as the two got into a GroundZIP and took off. 

Touching his arm as the second ZIP stopped in front of them, Lys said, “We’re going to some different stores, Gramps.  I need baby stuff, you need more clothes, and I have a few other places you might like.”

“This is our,” he frowned, “GroundZIP?”

“Yes.  It’s not that it’s too far to walk, but it would take too long.  Our purpose today is to shop, not walk.  We’ll go walking or riding after your tour tomorrow, if you like.”

“You have horses in your back…garden?”

“No,” Lys laughed.  “It’s not that large, but there are stables in a nearby park and riding trails.  Something like riding out from the Palace into the woodlands just outside the walls, but open to anyone.  They have gentle ones.”

Maric snorted, but decided not to react, saying only, “Ah, that’s because of the democratic republic thing they talked about.”  He looked around.  “Somehow I think we’ll find more fascinating pastimes than riding.”

He got into the ZIP and fumbled with the seat belt.  Lys let him keep trying, figuring a man who could put on armor would figure it out, and he finally fastened it.  As the ZIP moved away from the curb, he braced himself against the dashboard with his hands.  “It’s faster than galloping.  Getting used to all this is going to take a while!”  He took one look out the side window to see the buildings rushing past and quickly faced forward again.  Somehow, focusing on the traffic just ahead seemed less unsettling. 

Lys put a hand on his arm and he almost managed a smile.  “You will become used to the speed in time, and to everything else.  Some things come quickly, others take longer, but we’re safe here.  There are no Tevinter Travelers.”

“And no magic.”  He had relaxed his hold on the dashboard, but quickly braced himself again as they came to a stop. 

Lys led him into a small shop, tucked between a clothing store and an office block.  Maric looked around.  The shelves overflowed with books, with more stacks and open volumes spread out on the counter.  Maps hung in the few spaces without shelves.  He stopped, surprised by a map of what he believed was Thedas.  He looked at Lys, his eyebrows raised.

“It’s Thedas.  Quite accurate, as it’s based on a view from those satellites I pointed out.”

“They take…” he thought for a moment, searching for the word, “Pictures?” He laughed, softly.  “Of course, they do.  Is it for sale?” 

She nodded, grinning.

“How costly?”

“Not expensive at all.”  She pulled a rolled-up duplicate from the pile stacked below the one on the wall, held its tag up to her CTab and when it beeped back at her, said, “We’ll take it.”

“Just like that?”

“Just that like,” she replied.  “Bought and paid for.”

He looked around.  “I’ve never seen so many books.”

“Most of what we see and read is on our CTabs,” Lys explained, “but some of us still like books and maps.  We have a library at the house, but I thought you might like a few of your own.”  She watched as he looked around. 

“How do they produce so many?”

“Printing.”  She opened a book and showed Maric the printed pages.  “Not written by scriveners or scribes, but printed by machine.  Not the small machines you may have heard of in the Free Marches and Nevarra, but big ones.  The maps too, although some are hand decorated.”

“Loghain would love this place.”

“Ali would have too.  He worked in the scriptorium at Dragon’s Peak.  He draws, did you know?”

“Loghain told me, but I never saw any of his work.”  He studied her.  “You needn’t be so careful about speaking of Alistair…or Loghain.  That is…unless it pains you too much?”

“It helps.  Remembering.  Sharing.  I loved him very much.”

“I know.  I’m sorry, Lys.  I did mean to keep that promise I made to you in Eleanor’s garden in Highever.”

“I know you did.  Let’s just share our memories.”  She looked at a shelf of illustrated books.  “Look, these are for children.  Maybe they have some Fereldan tales.  Or,” she grinned at Maric, “we could write our own.  Our lives have been the stuff of tales.”

He laughed aloud.  “Dragons, monsters, witches…you might have a point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	7. All the Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story moves between Ferelden, in Firstfall, 9:31 Dragon, and Areth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.
> 
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

 

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 7:  All the Fathers**

**9:31 Dragon, Harvestmere ===** **Vigil** **’s Keep**

In his study at Vigil’s Keep, Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine in its glass as a servant refilled Liam’s.  Nate enjoyed seeing how the light from the fire reflected in the fine Antivan glasses he had inherited.  At least he could take pleasure in a few things from his Howe past.  He turned his attention to his guest, seated across from him by the fire.  Liam had arrived with news from Denerim, reinforcements for the Vigil’s Warden Outpost, and company for the ride west.  Liam would turn off for Dragon’s Peak at Drydenton, while Nate rode on with his guard to Higheverport, Pippa, and his son, Thom. 

He finally felt comfortable leaving Vigil’s Keep in Varel’s capable hands.  While not all threats from the darkspawn had gone away, the improvements made by Voldrik Glavonak and his dwarven workforce above ground, in the basements, and in the ancient Deep Roads, had left the keep stronger than it had stood for centuries.  Darkspawn still roamed Amaranthine, but the Vigil had been secured.  Nate had sent Voldrik to Amaranthine to work his magic there, thinking that the old walls could use reinforcing and the underground smugglers’ passage he had used to enter and conquer the city needed secure gates to keep out darkspawn or any other invaders.  Now, for the first time since Bloomingtide, he believed Amaranthine secure enough to leave it and visit Pippa and his son in Higheverport, but, as he had explained when Liam asked, not secure enough to let Pippa and baby Thomas visit him here.

Between the Wending Woods, and the strange darkspawn they had discovered there, and the Black Marsh, and the spirit he and Taina had brought back in a dead warden’s body, Nate didn’t feel complacent about Amaranthine’s safety, but the darkspawn were not a problem he could solve.  That was why Liam had arrived.

“Taina, Anders, Daveth and the other wardens seem unaffected by whatever this Architect did in the mine in the Wending Wood,” Liam said.  “He took their blood, but they escaped before he took enough to kill them.  As they discovered, our Nevarran friends fared far worse.  They found only remains as they chased the Architect through the mine tunnels. 

“Sadly, the Architect escaped as well.  We’ll need to find him.  He’s…well, this isn’t the first I’ve heard of him.  Senior Enchanter Fiona met him when she made an excursion into the Deep Roads twenty or so years ago.  At least I think it’s the same darkspawn she described.  I certainly hope there aren’t two of him.”

“She met him?”

“Very long story, Nate.  King Maric and Warden Duncan had the pleasure too.  They all barely escaped.”

“I vaguely remember talk of King Maric’s travels.  Loghain rescued him from Kinloch Hold, didn’t he?”

Liam grimaced.  “As I said, long story and…”  he shrugged, “the tale involves warden secrets.”

Nate sighed, understanding that however close he and Liam became there would always be secrets.  “What’s next?”

“Taina and Colum are working on a plan to find the Architect, as well as what to do with our spirit of Justice.  He’s…it’s pretty close to an abomination in my book.  I’ve known mages who have links with spirits, but the spirits remain in the Fade, they don’t cross the veil and take up residence in a dead, or worse, live body.”

“Should I worry?”

“No.  It is a spirit of Justice, not a demon.”  _At least not yet, although I believe that a spirit can become corrupted.  I_ _’ve never heard of a Vengeance demon, but this may become my first._ “I don’t think you need to call the templars yet. It _can_ fight.  Let’s let it help us get rid of the darkspawn first.”

The two men settled into a companionable silence.  Satinalia approached, but the celebrations at the Vigil would be quiet.  In Higheverport, however, Pippa intended to hold the traditional festivities, including boar, beef, and pigs roasting in the city squares where the city folk would eat, drink and dance.  Delilah planned similar festivities in Amaranthine, despite remaining vigilant against darkspawn.

Having left his decision to travel away from the Vigil so late, Nate planned on spending Satinalia with Delilah and Albert, which would give him a chance to check on Amaranthine City’s defenses.  Voldrik and his dwarves would work through the holiday to close off any underground passages and strengthen the city’s walls.  Thirty Hrothgar’s Wrath soldiers remained, bolstering the city’s guard.  Should the worst befall the city, local galleys and cogs stood ready to evacuate the civilians.  Delilah and Albert encouraged, almost ordered him, to go join Pippa and baby Thomas when Liam announced he had to leave a few days into the month of Firstfall.  _I_ _’ll go, but it won’t stop me worrying._

A few days later, from the porch of the Warden’s Rest, Liam watched the Amaranthine troops escorting Nate disappear around the bend leading west from Drydenton.  Anders had joined him when they left Vigil’s Keep, while Taina, Daveth and Jowan had remained behind with the wardens assisting Nathaniel’s troops against the darkspawn and with Colum, who was almost recovered from his earlier wounds.

No one, aside from Anders, knew Liam would soon become a father.  Visiting Avernus, assessing the status of the Peak itself, and securing more of the new Joining potion provided believable reasons for Liam and Anders to visit the warden’s fortress. 

_I_ _’d like to confide in Nate, but I’m not sure how the Old God’s soul will reveal itself in this child.  It’s too early to confide in anyone._ He stared into the forest surrounding the village’s single street. _Except Alistair.  I hope Morrigan spoke with him.  It will be good to see him and just talk._   He turned and entered the inn, the smell of venison stew reminding him how hungry he felt.  He and Anders would leave with their Dryden guide in the morning,

**9:31 Dragon, Firstfall === Soldier** **’s Peak**

Over time, many at Soldier’s Peak became aware of the woman, the pregnant woman, staying in what they called the Mage’s Tower.  Sigrun, Levi, and a few others spoke with Morrigan, particularly after Alistair left, since she had been seen talking with him.  Sigrun had, at Morrigan’s request, led her through the basements, showing her the rooms she and Alistair had found.  When they went to the docks, Morrigan understood how Alistair had escaped.  She had not been able to comprehend why Alistair would leave Soldier’s Peak for Ferelden, and risk being seen and recognized, but from here he could take ship and escape anywhere.  She surprised herself by silently wishing him well, thinking that it’s what Mel would have wanted.

Morrigan only entered the main keep late at night to use the library or search the basement storage areas for any arcane supplies, mostly rare ingredients for potions.  Avernus had some suggestions on where to look, recalling items stored long ago.  Alistair and Sigrun had found most of the lyrium, but other dried plants, crushed minerals, and desiccated animal parts remained in vials and sealed pots.   Gradually, she transferred everything she found to storage cabinets in Avernus’ Tower.

Firstfall brought snow and Morrigan worried to herself that it would delay Liam, but he had already entered the tunnels before the storm began.  He strode across the courtyard and up the stairs to the Keep, meeting Levi Dryden in the entry.  After Levi assured him Morrigan rested in her apartment in the Tower, Liam asked to see Alistair.       

“I’m sorry, Warden-Commander, but Ser Alun left.  We haven’t seen him since Satinalia Eve.”  Levi Dryden spoke to Liam as he led the Commander to his official rooms.  “He left no note, no message for anyone, but took all his things.  We searched, but found no trail to follow.”

“Could he have gotten lost in the caves?” Liam asked.

“Not likely.  He and that elf friend of his learned those passages, but,“ he held up a hand to forestall the comment he expected, “we sent Warden Sigrun to search, both the caves and Deep Roads beneath the fortress.  She found nothing.”

Assuring Levi he needed no further help on his way back to the main floor, Liam dropped his belongings in his room in the main keep and set off, on his own, to find the way Avernus’ tower.  Unsure of how to get from his room to the bridge connecting Keep to Tower, he moved slowly, surprised by the improvements the Dryden’s had made.  Peering into rooms through open doorways, Liam saw neatly kempt bed chambers, well stocked linen closets, clean privies, and full storage rooms.  Treading in the worn depressions of each step in the circular stairways between floors, he stepped out into the second floor, where they had fought Sophia Dryden’s demon and the others which had manifested in the great hall.  The main rooms now served as the wardens’ dining hall with three rows of long trestle tables, empty in the afternoon dusk.  Tonight, he would have to greet his wardens over supper, but he had other business to attend to first.  From here he could find his way.  He walked through the rooms and out onto the bridge that led to Avernus and Morrigan.

Before he could knock on the door to the Tower, it opened.  

“I saw you from the window,” Morrigan said.

Liam smirked.  “Lucky you looked out at just at that moment.”

“T’is quite fortuitous,” Morrigan agreed, as she pulled him inside the vestibule, out of sight of both Avernus and any external onlooker.  “I am happy to see you, Liam.”

He grinned, cupped her face in his hands, and leaned down to kiss her.  Their tongues entwined, sparred, and finally, as their breath ran out, separated.  “I’d hug you, but-.”

“-yes, t'would be difficult to get your arms all the way around.  Not to mention the kicking.”  She pushed him back, so that he could see the cloth of her gown twitch with each small kick or punch. 

He laughed out loud and cupped her cheek again.  “I missed you both.”

“And I you.  More than I expected, to be honest.”

“Good,” he said, grinning.

She sniffed.  “Smug, as always.”

“I love you too, Morrigan.”

Frowning, she pressed her lips together.  “I know.  And I…care for you.”  She stopped.  “Liam, I need to tell you about Alistair.” She nodded towards the stairway and her apartment on the floor above.

Surprised, Liam followed her up the stairs.  “What about him?” Liam asked as they climbed.  “Levi Dryden said he’d left.  Disappeared.”

“He did,” Morrigan said as she took a seat on the settee by the small hearth.  “I told him about Kieran, and how the ritual saved his life, as you wished. We had a…friendly…conversation, but he remained quite doleful.  It seems he missed the elf, Zevran, and felt very alone.  I…perhaps I should have written to you.”

“You don’t think he took his own life?”

“No.  No, I believe he ran away.”  She pulled a note from her pocket.  “Besides, I found this slipped under the door to the Tower.”   She continued before he could read it.  “He said he had no purpose here and that he lived a lie.  He left on Satinalia ensuring no one noticed for several days.  Sigrun mentioned that he sometimes wrote to a dwarf in Kirkwall, to order supplies, and small boats - galleys I believe they’re called - stop at the dock.  I think he called for a ship and left on it.  It could take him anywhere.  I’m not sure you could have helped, since no one can know he lives.  Perhaps he went in search of Zevran.” 

“Or to find a place where he could be himself, or more himself than he could here.”

“Will you search?”

“No.  He’s no longer a warden, so he won’t attract Weisshaupt’s attention.  I’ll need to tell Anders, but no one else need know.  He has no desire to be known in Ferelden, so he won’t call himself Ser Alistair Theirin, or even Ser Alistair.  He’ll be Ser Alun or some other name, but on his terms.”

Liam read the note, written in Alistair’s hand, which said he had taken the supply of Blight pills Fergus had provided for the Peak.  It asked Morrigan to tell Liam. 

“You’re right.  He must plan on living, if he’s using Blight pills,” Liam mused.  “Maybe he can build a life.  I wish him well.”

The two sat side by side, Liam’s arm draped around Morrigan’s shoulders, while his other hand rested on her belly, feeling the movements of his son.

**x==========x**

Preferring to remain in the Tower, Morrigan convinced Liam and Anders to prepare their bedroom for her lying in with a birthing chair and all necessary supplies.  At the same time Liam had moved all his belongings to the Mage’s Tower, confirming Levi’s suspicions that the child Morrigan carried was his.  A week after his arrival, Liam found himself pacing around the small sitting room in Morrigan’s Tower apartment.  Some hours before, when Morrigan’s water had broken, Liam had awakened Anders, sleeping in his room on the floor above them, while Morrigan had sent the mid-wife’s servant to the Keep to fetch her mistress.

As Liam watched, the Dryden mid-wife, a first cousin of Levi’s, and her assistant gathered towels from the cupboard, set a pot to warming over the hearth, and put the birthing chair in the center of the room over a rush mat.  Morrigan paced the circumference of the room as the others worked, pushing him away when he tried to assist.  Soon after, Anders had banished him from the bedroom, telling him he would call if he needed magical assistance.

“So, the time has come?” A raspy voice had said from the doorway.

Liam had turned to find the other mage staring at him.  “Yes, but I seem unnecessary for the moment.”

“Perhaps you could help me, Warden-Commander,” Avernus intoned.  “I could use the assistance of another mage in your lady’s absence.”  He walked into the sitting room.  “No, you don’t have to leave.  I want to go over some new findings and see what you think.  I’m close to creating a potion that will not only be a safer for Joinings, but slow the advance of the taint and, effectively, delay Callings.  For most, it will mean wardens live a normal life span of three score years or more.  Eventually I hope to extend the Calling beyond all but the most long-lived.”

Liam would never have picked Avernus as his companion while he waited for Morrigan to give birth, but the old mage sat quietly by the fire, occasionally encouraging Liam to sit, take a sip of wine, and speaking about his most recent discovery.  Discussing the new Joining potion did distract Liam from his worrying.

“Can existing wardens take this potion?  Will it delay their Calling?”

“More recent wardens, say those who joined within the last five to ten years, yes.  It may not be as effective, since it will start from a later stage in the progression, but it will work.  For those who joined more than ten years ago, the benefit will diminish quickly relative to the years since their Joining.  The potion uses some rare ingredients, so, despite having so much Archdemon blood, we cannot make large quantities.”

“We benefit from sensing darkspawn,” Liam said, staring at the fire, “and that skill increases as the taint spreads. Will that change?”  He looked at Avernus, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know, Commander.  I would postulate the slower progression would include a slower buildup of that ability.  Everything has its cost.”

They both looked at the closed door when a particularly loud groan sounded.  Liam picked up the notes, when no one emerged from the birthing chamber.  Still distracted, Liam forced himself to review the notes Avernus laid before him, some in the old mage’s scrawl and the rest in Morrigan’s precise hand.  _Felandaris_ he had heard of, but _amarita vein_ and _vandal aria_ he had not.  He wondered how he could gather more of these rare herbs. Engrossed in the descriptions, he did not look up until moans, grunts and a few epithets came from the bed chamber.  At first, a quiet period followed and he returned to his reading, but after a time, the quiet stretches grew shorter.  Finally, Anders appeared at the door and motioned him in.

Morrigan, sweat dripping off her chin, and tendrils of dark hair plastered to her brow, squatted in the birthing chair, eyes closed and head leaning back against the head rest.  Her belly glistened from the oils the midwife and her assistant had applied to encourage contractions. 

”Go stand by your wife and hold her hand,” Anders barked, not hiding his annoyance.  “She wants you here for the birth, but move when we say so and don’t try to help.”

Nodding, Liam moved to Morrigan’s left, taking her hand and standing just behind the chair.  She gave a slight smile as he rubbed her fingers. 

“I want you to see him born, Liam,” she whispered.  “T’is only fair, as you were there at his conception.”

Liam leaned down to whisper in her ear.  “Thank you, love.  I’m here.”

As he spoke another contraction built.  Liam recognized the signs, having attended births in the Circle Tower, but did nothing more than let Morrigan squeeze his hand.  The grunts, groans and occasional guttural yell followed as the young woman pushed, her head straining forward as the muscles corded in her neck.  Anders cast healing and rejuvenation spells, but let the mid-wife tend to the mother and babe.  The assistant dipped a cloth in cool water and wiped Morrigan’s face, neck and chest.

“I can see the head, my lady,” the midwife reported, as the contraction subsided.  “The next contraction will come quickly.  Push when I tell you.”

Morrigan grunted her agreement and leaned back against the head rest.  The midwife’s prediction proved true and the babe, a boy as Morrigan had foretold, dropped into the midwife’s waiting hands.  His cry followed along with a huge grin on the face of his father.  Laying the baby in Morrigan’s arms, the cord still attached, the midwife gave the new mother a few moments to cuddle with her son.  Liam bent over the two, rubbing the baby’s brow with two fingers.

“Welcome, Kieran,” he said to his son, as Morrigan smiled.

“He’s a good size, my lady,” the midwife said softly.  “Not so big as to damage you, but not too small to thrive once your milk’s come in.”

Measuring the width of four fingers, the midwife tied a piece of twine tightly around the umbilical cord, cut it and, gently taking him from Morrigan, handed the baby to her assistant who washed him and then gently cleaned its gums with honey, to increase its appetite. She dried him with fine linen and wrapped him tightly in swaddling bands so he would not move or scratch himself.  Liam continued to hold Morrigan’s hand as the midwife massaged Morrigan’s belly with more oil, tugged lightly on the cord and delivered the placenta.  As the assistant brought the babe back to her mother, the midwife began to clean Morrigan with cloths soaked in warm, herb infused water; inspect her for tears, which Anders would heal; and, using soft cloths and moss to absorb the bleeding that followed birth, put on her smalls and tie them at either hip.

“’Tis done then?” Morrigan asked.  “All the afterbirth has been expelled.”

Both the mid-wife and Anders nodded.  “I’ve scanned for unusual bleeding and remains, but found none,” Anders assured her.

“I agree,” said the mid-wife.    

Liam sponged Morrigan’s back and neck as she leaned forward in the birthing chair, still holding the baby.  He then helped her stand and led her to their bed.  Morrigan crawled into the bed with the assistant’s help, while Liam held Kieran, murmuring to him.  Once settled, Morrigan took the babe and held him to her breast.  A frown creased her brow when Kieran did not immediately latch on to her proffered nipple. 

“Now, my lady, sometimes it takes a few tries,” the mid-wife said.  “May I help?”

Still frowning, Morrigan nodded as the midwife shifted the baby’s position, explaining as she did.  “Turn your baby's whole body toward you, chest to chest, and touch his upper lip with your nipple.”  As Morrigan settled Kieran into that position he opened his mouth wide.  The midwife raised Morrigan’s breast, holding it for support as his mouth covered not just the nipple but much of the areola.  Morrigan slipped her hand beneath the breast, replacing the midwife’s as Kieran began to suck.  This first feeding lasted only a few minutes, but before it ended Morrigan’s entranced expression told Liam she would care deeply for their son.

Later, the baby would be placed in a wooden cradle next to the mother’s bed in a dark corner, where the light would not hurt his eyes. As Morrigan drifted to sleep in their bed, Liam rocked the baby to sleep.  Keeping to Fereldan customs, the baby would remain securely swaddled until he was old enough to sit up, although Liam knew Morrigan would insist on several hours of unbundling each day.  He would be bathed, changed, and rubbed with rose oil every three turns of the glass by the servant Morrigan had agreed would attend them.  Once cleaned, however, Morrigan would feed him, rejecting every suggestion that a wet nurse be engaged.

Pulling Liam aside, the midwife assured him that several Dryden women nursed and could step in should the need arise.  They watched Morrigan cradle Kieran as he fed, making soft suckling noises.   

“She will not need help,” the midwife said, “but we will keep watch and find someone if I’m wrong.”

**9:31 Dragon, Firstfall ===** **Higheverport**

Leaving Liam and Anders in Drydenton, Nate and his troops marched on to Higheverport and his family.  That he did not join them for Satinalia had disappointed Pippa, but ensuring the successful celebrations in the city had taken much of her time, as Nate had hoped, leaving little for regrets.  Unlike Morrigan, Pippa had engaged a wet nurse and helper to care for Thomas when she had to fulfill responsibilities elsewhere.  She recalled her mother saying that Teyrna Eleanor had breastfed both Fergus and Melysande, but always with the help of a wet nurse.  She decided to do the same, finding comfort and pleasure in bonding with her son, especially given Nate’s necessary absences.

The Satinalia celebrations had succeeded, much to her delight.  While memories of those lost during the Howe attack and occupation remained, most folk had found solace in the remembrances, not sorrow.  A surprise, just before the holiday, had been the influx of a group of refugee elves, freed from a Tevinter slave ship.  Since the elves had been in the hold, the circumstances of the rescue, apparently by another ship, had not been clear; the ship had departed before Pippa or her guard captain could question the ship’s captain or record its name.  The elves had come with coin and skills, so she and Hahren Cordelian welcomed them to an Alienage and city that needed newcomers.  Aemilia had taken the young weavers and spinners to the loom house and spinnery, putting them to work right away, while placing their babies and toddlers in the crèche or nursery, close enough to visit, but far enough away to dim the clacking of the looms.  Several of the less skilled newcomers joined the caregivers in the crèche, providing familiar faces for the children.  Nelaros had apprenticed three of the young men who had some smithing experience.  The others, men, women and children, settled into their new home and would find work as the other elves and humans discovered their skills.

With the holiday over, Pippa’s focus turned back to her family.  Caring for baby Thom, who, at almost three months, smiled and gurgled as she told him stories, ensuring cook had the ingredients for Nate’s favorite foods, and altering a few winter gowns to fit her larger breasts took up most of her time.  She hoped for a long visit, believing the wardens would rid Amaranthine of darkspawn without Nate’s presence.

With all the troubles in Amaranthine, and with Fergus spending so much time in Denerim, leaving Pippa to administer the whole of Highever, Nate and Pippa’s separations had been longer than either had expected when they first married.  Duty came first, but they missed each other as friends and lovers.  Nate had sent a bird when he left Amaranthine, but she could only guess at when he would arrive.  He had not seen Thomas in almost seven weeks. 

**9:31 Dragon, Firstfall ===** **Denerim**

Almost three now, Queen Elin Theirin sat on her grandfather’s lap as he told her a story.  Anora and Eleanor, sitting across from the pair, exchanged smiles, as Loghain regaled his granddaughter with a story of dragons and magic, not battles or betrayals.  A young queen called Elin, advised by a wise red-bird called Martin, always seemed to be the heroine of the story, exploring the magic forests which covered most of her realm, where trees walked, animals talked, and fairies popped from behind bushes and logs.  The queen rescued lost dogs, kittens, and children from real and imagined dangers.  Usually, Loghain would ask his granddaughter what the make-believe Queen Elin or her subjects might find fearsome and weave the story around Elin’s answer, often asking for her opinion on how to solve a problem, much as he had a done with the boy, Alistair, when they rode out together.  His stories had avoided darkspawn, but tackled spiders, and lost children, dogs and kittens, a boat floating away with no oars, and strange tribes who turned out to be friendly.  Anora had asked Elin, who picked the name of the red-bird adviser, why she named him Martin, but Elin only said she liked the name.

Amidst the usual bedtime protests, Anora took Elin to her room for a final story and bed.  Eleanor observed Loghain’s expression as he watched his daughter and granddaughter leave. 

“It’s a different kind of love, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

“Like nothing I’ve felt before,” he agreed.  “All I have to do is love her.”

Eleanor smiled.  “And refrain from too much spoiling.”

He laughed.  “And that.”

“When will you take her to the sparring yard?”

“Ah, you heard that?  I try to only mention bows when I tell her stories, but she keeps asking about swords.”  He frowned.  “Anora heard too?”

The queen had resisted Elin’s requests for a sword and visit to the sparring yard to watch the guard and wardens.  Loghain had respected his daughter’s wishes, but had secretly acquired a tiny bow.  He thought he had a better chance of convincing Anora to let Elin learn to shoot, but had not yet broached the subject.

“I have a small bow for her.  Should I ask Anora?  I thought learning to shoot might divert her from all the sword questions.”  He had often come to Eleanor for advice when Anora was young, but not since. 

“Anora would accept the bow sooner than a blade, I think, but maybe learning a few simple forms?  That’s how Lys began.  Oriana held Oren back and Fergus honored her wishes, but learning the bow and forms at three didn’t hurt Lys…or Pippa, who joined her.”

“Anora got her first bow at about that age too.  No forms, but the bow.”  He smiled.  “Thank you.  You’ve always given me good advice, Eleanor, even when I failed to follow it.” 

“Sometimes giving advice is easier than taking it or seeing what you need to do yourself, Loghain.  We’ve all fallen into the trap of limited vision.”

“All too often in my case, I fear.”  He saw the slight frown crease her forehead and shrugged.  “I can’t forgive myself, but you’re right, it sounds like whining.  I’ll stop.”

Eleanor laughed, softly.  “That we’re sitting her talking, just as we did years ago, is a sign we’re both healing, my friend.  I’ll miss our evenings, while I’m in Cumberland, but a visit to my cousin Samuel at House Haris will help grow Gwaren’s trade with the rest of Thedas, as well as Amaranthine’s.   Better I go than Pippa.  Nate and her son,” she pressed her lips together briefly, “and Fergus, all need her here.” 

**9:31 Dragon, Firstfall === In Areth, by way of Cumberland**

Traveling north to Amaranthine and taking the galley cousin Sam had sent proved a quicker route to Cumberland than leaving by sea from Denerim.  The captain of the galley, Estrid, had given up her own cabin to Eleanor during the trip west across the Waking Sea despite the dowager Teyrna’s protests.  Estrid did join her for meals, however, and the two struck up a friendship when Eleanor admitted to being the Seawolf.

Arriving in Cumberland, Eleanor made her way to the Haris compound undisguised, where, to her surprise, her sister met her.  She had wondered at Sam’s insistence that she come to Cumberland, but had not expected Olivia to be the reason.  All Liv would say was that she had a surprise for Eleanor in Areth.  Once Sam assured her that he agreed to all the plans for setting up a small Haris outpost in Gwaren, she acquiesced to Liv’s entreaties.

“Oh, let’s go and get this over with, Liv, although I can’t imagine what could be so important in Areth that I need to come right away.”

Liv just smiled.

**x==========x**

Lys decided to remain at the townhouse while Liv went to get her mother.  She did not want her reunion witnessed by every eye in the Traveler’s Council lounge.  Maric and Kai smiled at each other as Lys paced around the deck, went back into the house to pee and get more water, sat briefly trying to read on the couch in the cooler living area, and then returned to pace on the deck. 

“I know.  I’m not making anything happen more quickly.   I just-”

Kai got up and took Lys’ hand, knowing her friend still did not feel comfortable with hugs or touching.  She knew, now, from what little Reina had told her on shipboard, that the Tevinter mage, Nicephorus, had put her under a sleep spell ensuring she would not notice if others entered the room she shared with Lys.  On those nights, which Lys refused to discuss, whatever Thomas had done had made Lys even more fearful of being touched.  Reina had refused to say any more, only assuring her that Thomas had not harmed the baby.  It’s Lys story to tell, not mine, Reina had said.

“-you’re anxious and you’ll have to tell your story again.”

“No, I won’t this time.  I’ve written it all down, well most of it, like I did with Castle Cousland.  Mum can read it and then we’ll talk.  It’s easier.  You can tell her whatever you like, as well.  You saw things I didn’t.”  Lys squeezed Kai’s hand and pulled hers away, turning to Maric.  “You’ll have to tell your story, Maric.  I could only write about meeting you.  It will be a lot for Mum to take in.”

As the former king nodded his assent, Felix jumped off the chaise where he had lain at Maric’s feet, and ran towards the front door.

Lys stiffened, rubbed her belly, and murmured, “Maker, I hope I’m doing the right thing for us, little one.”  Kai remained at her side, while Maric stayed seated.  They heard Olivia tell Eleanor to leave her things and go out to deck, where she promised to join her, bringing cool drinks and a snack.  A sheer curtain covered the window on the inside, so, while Eleanor could make out two figures, she could not yet tell who they were.  She walked to the open slider and stopped short.

An elf, a rare sight in Areth, and a very pregnant young woman stood by the far railing of the deck, shaded by the branches of the copper beech in the yard beyond.  Both were barefoot and wore form-fitting leggings and colorful tunics.  A leather belt encircled the elf’s tunic, resting on her slender hips.  The human woman’s tunic hung loose, rising in the front around a very large belly, on which the woman’s left hand rested.  The thought that they looked just like Kailian and Melysande refused to leave Eleanor’s head, even as she kept telling herself that it could not be true.  At least she did, until the pregnant woman spoke.

“Mum?”  Lys took a few steps towards Eleanor.  “Mum, it’s me.  I’m not dead.  I can explain.”

Eleanor shook her head, as if to release it from its disbelief.  “Lys!”  She stepped forward arms out and Lys let herself be enveloped in her mother’s hug.  She stiffened, but Eleanor never noticed, and she made herself relax and hug her mother back as she began to cry.  “Mum, we’re fine.  Now.  We’re here and safe.”  Her tears blended with Eleanor’s the two stood, embracing, until Lys said.  “Um, Mum.  There’s someone else you need to see.”

Eleanor stepped away, as Olivia joined them carrying a large tray.  She saw a man rise from the chaise longue near the table and help Liv set out the glasses, pitcher or cold tea, and snacks. 

She recovered her voice more quickly than she had when she first saw Lys and Kai, but remained wide-eyed as she said, “Your Majesty?”

“No,” the man answered with a grin, as Eleanor’s mouth opened, “just Maric, former king if you must, but a simple man here.  It’s good to see you Eleanor.”  He walked over to her and held out his hands.  She looked at him, mouth closing, and took his hands in hers.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “Sorry for everything.  Your losses.  Mine.”  He looked at Kai and Lys.  “We each have a story to tell, although they intersect in the end.”  He grinned then.  “Unless Lys’ babe decides to come sooner than we expect, we’ll have time to tell our tales and answer your questions before you become a grandmother again.”

Eleanor eyed her daughter.  “Is it-”

“-Ali’s? Yes.  Maric will be a grandfather…again.  And, well, Fiona knows too,” Lys explained, “and she’s coming too, as the baby’s other grandmother.  Mum, for reasons that will become clear, you can’t tell anyone else.  Not Fergus, not Anora, not Loghain, not Pippa…no one.  Maybe one day, but not now.  Only Sam, Fiona, and two other people in Thedas know we live.  It must stay that way.  Will you promise?”

Eleanor looked from Lys to Kai to Maric to Olivia and they all had the same serious, intent expressions, which told her that all of them agreed with her daughter…her adult, pregnant daughter who needed to protect a fatherless infant.

“Would the Grey Wardens try to take Alistair’s child?  Or the Orlesians?” she asked.

“Orlesians would.  Why not?  He has the same Theirin blood Alistair did.  Also, Tevinters, as Maric will explain,” Lys said.  “Mum, I need your promise.”

“I promise,” Eleanor said, grateful that Lys and Maric had chosen to include her in their little world and thinking that she could change their minds later.  “To all of you.  I will tell no one without your permission.”

Lys breathed a sigh and smiled again.  “Let’s eat then.  I’m hungry and we can begin our stories.”  She looked at Maric.

He nodded, his smile almost a grimace.  “I’ve been elected to go first, since my encounter with Rendon Howe’s perfidy came first and had the most aftereffects.”

It took another day for Eleanor to read, hear, question, and believe everything that had transpired since the Final Battle ended the Blight.  She even had some news to add, relating how Nathaniel had found the fortress, after chasing darkspawn through the tunnel connecting it to Vigil’s Keep.  She explained how the wardens had found the women in the prison, safe, but hungry and thirsty.  They had confirmed the existence of a ship, revealed that Thomas had a pregnant wife, and explained that the fortress had provided a haven for Rendon and then Thomas’ elven slave breeding business. 

“How did Nate take it?” Lys said.

“Hard,” Eleanor replied, confirming Lys’ fears.  “It’s worse, because Amaranthine has suffered the worst of this Thaw.  There seem to be two darkspawn armies fighting each other and ravaging the countryside.  Worse, one of the armies is led by talking, intelligent darkspawn.”

“Talking?”  Kai’s eyes widened.  “The alphas grunt and point and give orders, but they don’t talk.”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows, shrugging, and said, “These do.  Nate, Taina, Daveth, Anders, Oghren and others have all heard darkspawn talk.”

Lys and Kai exchanged glances.  “That’s horrific.” Lys said.

“But there’s nothing we can do,” Kai said, emphatically.  “You have a baby to birth.”

Lys smiled.  “I’m not running back, Kai.  It’s no longer our duty.  Liam and Nate can handle it and I’m sure the regents and Loghain will help?”  She looked at her mother.

“Whatever needs to be done will be done,” she assured them.

**x==========x**

As it happened, Fiona arrived just as Lys began to go into labor.  She had completed the one-day orientation to Areth, accompanied by Olivia, but had not completely adjusted to the strange surroundings when Olivia piled them all into a large GoundZIP and transported them to the birthing center.  Maric, Fiona, Eleanor, Kailian, and Olivia all joined Lys in her birthing chamber where she would go through labor and, all hoped, give birth to a healthy baby boy. 

Eleanor and Fiona inspected the room with great interest.  Eleanor, as she told Fiona, had always given birth in Fereldan, although an Arethian mid-wife, Marian, had been present along with Nyla, the Cousland’s mage healer.  To Fiona, it was all new.  Eleanor explained what she could of the devices which monitored the well-being of both the mother and baby.  Lys’ doctor and nurses came and went, checking on her contractions’ duration and spacing and how much she had dilated.  Kai sat by her side or walked with her, determined to be present throughout, since Alistair could not. 

To everyone’s relief, labor proceeded normally, if a bit more slowly than Lys would have liked, as dilation seemed to slow a couple centimeters shy of ten.  Kai remained at her side, coaching, giving her ice and sponging her face, neck, back, and chest.  Her mum and Fiona remained in the room, while Maric and Olivia brought food and water or just checked in from a waiting area on the same floor.

“It’s a good thing I’m not much of a healer,” Fiona said to Eleanor, “or I think I’d be frustrated at this point, not having any magic.”

“Does it hurt or bother you, having no magic?”

Fiona shook her head.  “It’s as if I’ve run out of mana, so I can feel the lack, but it’s not disturbing or painful.  It’s calming, in some ways.  Mana buzzes, although I never realized it before.  It’s a quiet sensation, but always present.  Here there’s silence.  Maybe other mages would hate that absence, but I don’t.  I would at home, but not here.”  She looked at Lys as the young woman grunted loudly and pushed.  “Maybe it’s just that other magic is happening and mine doesn’t matter.”

Eleanor took the mage’s hand and they held on to each other as they watched Lys give birth.

Cleaned, his first feeding over, and his family gathered around him, baby William, or Will, opened his eyes to find two grandmothers, a great-aunt, a grandfather and an honorary elven aunt all staring down at him.  Fiona, Eleanor and Maric all looked at each other. 

“He does, doesn’t he?” Eleanor asked Fiona.

“He does what, Mum?” Lys asked, cradling her son.

“He looks just like his father,” Fiona said softly.  “He could be Alistair’s twin.”

Lys bit her lower lip, but when she blinked, tears seeped out and ran down her cheeks.  “He would have loved being a father,” she whispered.  “He would have been such a good one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	8. On the Defensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year turns - 9:32 Dragon arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 8: On the Defensive**

**9:31 Dragon, Haring === Soldiers** **’ Peak**

Tugging against Kieran’s hold on his little finger, Liam grinned at his six-week-old son.  “Is that a smile?”  he queried, chuckling at his own high-pitched voice.

At first denying that she changed her tone when speaking to her son, Morrigan conceded that she, too, spoke differently.   “T’is normal for a parent to speak in such a way,” she argued, “as long as you use normal words.”

“So, your mother spoke to you that way?”

Sniffing, she retorted that she did not remember how her mother spoke when she was an infant.  “I never saw my mother with a babe in later years.  I am quite sure she spoke to me as to an adult from the first, but as to her tone…” she shrugged.  

He heard her muttering later that her mother would never speak in any special way to an infant and adding that it made it more important that she did.  Realizing Liam had heard her, she elaborated, “I will consider how my mother would behave and behave differently, based on circumstances and his age,” Morrigan said, as she cuddled Kieran against her.  “I will love him,” she added softly, then narrowed her eyes as she looked up at Liam, “which does not mean he will not learn hard lessons, but he will always know I…we are there helping him.  I do not believe in coddling–”

At that Liam could not suppress a chuckle.  He held up his hands.  “-I don’t believe in coddling either, but no one would ever suspect you of supporting it.”  He brushed his fingers over his son’s sparse growth of dark hair and the raised it to caress Morrigan’s cheek.  “What I do believe is that you love and will keep him safe, mage or not.  I just wonder–”

“–there is no way to know yet exactly how the Old God’s soul will affect him.  I have more studying to do, which I can do here, but within the year I…we must think about another place to keep us safe.  Too many have begun to realize I am here.  Wardens can be closed mouthed and the Dryden clan keeps to itself, but word will spread.  I want to be gone before Mother regains her powers.”

Liam nodded agreement.  He had come to accept Morrigan belief in Flemeth’s survival.  “Let’s not worry about it for now.”  He turned at a knock on the door and, opening it, found Sigrun outside.  As Alistair had told him, she would become a good leader.  Alistair had asked the woman who taught the Dryden children to teach Sigrun to read the Common Tongue and improve her arithmetic beyond the basics she had learned to function in the Carta.  As important, she kept secrets and Morrigan liked her.  Given how quickly Sigrun’s learned to read, he suspected Morrigan had helped. 

“A bird, Commander.”  She handed him a note and left.

“More trouble from your talking darkspawn?”  Morrigan asked, speaking lightly despite the frown creasing her forehead.

“Much more.  Attacks throughout Amaranthine, even on the City itself.  Nate’s returning early on a galley from Higheverport.  He’ll stop at the dock here on his way and take any of us who can leave.”

“So soon!” Kieran whimpered as she squeezed him.  She lifted him to her lips and kissed his forehead.  Looking back at Liam she said, “I see.  Nathaniel would not leave his family were it not urgent.”

“No, he would not, love.  I need to go, too.  I’ll leave Sigrun in charge here, but take a few of the more experienced wardens.  Fulke and two others.”

“A good choice.  She tolerates Avernus and cares for Kieran.”

He smiled.  “And you tolerate her.”

“I like her, Liam.  She is sensible and capable.  I will remain here while you fight these monsters.”

He nodded, understanding that she had just promised not to leave without telling him, at least for the present.

**9:31 Dragon, Haring === Higheverport**

Nathaniel kissed his son one last time, before laying the swaddled infant in his cradle.  Pippa insisted on leaving Thom unwrapped for a few waking hours each day, but believed he slept better when bundled securely in a soft cloth.  Nate enjoyed the time Thom spent on his back, batting at a dangled ball of yarn, watching the light filtering through small glass prism hung above his head, or listening his mother read or sing to him.  He found even his deep voice could garner a smile when he talked or sang to his son.  His love for the little boy overwhelmed him sometimes and caused him to wonder how his own parents could have been so cold and cruel.  He rubbed a finger across Thom’s head and stood, already regretting his departure.

Pippa, her back to Nate and her son, stood in the Keep’s window embrasure staring across the roofs of Higheverport to the harbor, where numerous masts rocked at anchor.  One mast flew the banner of Amaranthine at its peak.  Nate, stepping up behind her, put his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. 

“I can’t leave this to Delilah.  You’re safe here, but she and Albert–”

“–I know,” Pippa whispered.  “And she’s with child.  It just never seems to end.  It wasn’t like this when we were growing up.”

“It was for our parents.”

Pippa sighed and nodded, covering Nate’s hands with her own.  “I should be grateful so few darkspawn have attacked the Coastlands and that we missed the worst of the Blight.  We’ll keep watch, but our wardens have only sensed a few incursions.  Even in the west, near our old Long’s Reach camp, only a few groups of darkspawn appeared.”

“Have you heard from Arlessa Alfstanna?”  Nate asked, giving the former Bann her new title.  The regents had decided, and the Landsmeet agreed, that Alfstanna’s diplomatic responsibilities, requiring her to negotiate along the Orlesian border with Jader and across the Waking Sea, with Cumberland, warranted the greater title, Arlessa of Waking Sea.

“From her and from Felice, the cloth merchant we trade with in Jader.  No unusual darkspawn appearances in either place.”  She turned, within his embrace, to face him.  “I’m sorry all this fell on you and Delilah.”  She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers.  “We’ll miss you.  First you miss Satinalia and now this.”  She pressed two fingers against his lips to forestall the comment she expected. “I know, Delilah appreciated the support and I kept busy, seeing to the traditional celebrations here.”

“And the elven refugees.”

Pippa frowned.  “You still think they came from the fortress you found east of the Vigil?”

“I do.”

“I’ll ask Hahren Cordelian to tell me if she learns anything, but I don’t think we can–”

“–no, I don’t expect you to have them questioned, but learn whatever you can learn from the Hahren.  If Thomas did have a wife and she survived and has a child, I want to know, to help them.  The human women we rescued said the elven men and women worked throughout the Keep.”

“And they’re invisible to the humans they serve,” Pippa added, ending with pursed lips.  “I’ll explain and ask Myfanwy to help if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.  The refugees will know more than the human women did,” Nate said.

Pippa rose on her toes and pressed her lips to Nate’s.  The kiss deepened as their tongues explored and twined.  Pippa’s arms reached around Nathaniel’s neck, as one of his hands cupped a breast, while the other pressed her hips against his.  Pulling away, Pippa whispered he would never make the morning tide if they kept this up.

Breathing deeply to catch his breath, Nate lowered his forehead to rest on her hair.  “I don’t want to make the morning tide, but–”

“–you must.”

“Liam will appreciate another day with Morrigan and the baby.”

“Delilah won’t.”

“No.”  He dropped his arms and stepped back, a wry grin on his lips.  “Your practicality can be–”

“–deflating?”

He chuckled.  “I love you.”

“And I you, Nathaniel Howe.  Come back to us soon and safely.”

Nate backed away, took one last look at Thomas, turned, and strode through the door.

**9:32 Dragon, Wintermarch === Amaranthine City**

Less than a week later, having passed First Day and the start of the year 9:32 Dragon at sea, the galley, its sail furled, rowed into Amaranthine harbor to signs of recent battle.  Smoke rose from the settlement outside the great walls, but the city itself appeared untouched and the harbor, while filled with galleys and sailing ships, showed no signs of an evacuation.  Liam and Nate disembarked and headed to the Guard quarters to get a report.  They found Delilah sitting with Constable Aidan, the guard captain, and Voldrik Glavonak reviewing their defensive plan.

“Nate and Warden-Commander,” Delilah said, standing to embrace her brother.  “I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly.  Or did you leave before my message arrived, brother?”

“I got it and sent a bird the same day to Liam to ask that he join us.  Our galley made good time.  I’ve sent my lieutenant to secure rooms for the troops I brought and for Liam’s wardens.”  He looked at Aidan.  “I won’t displace your Guard, Constable.  We’ll use the Chantry or stay in one of the inns.  Now, Voldrik, have you had time to block the underground passages?”

“Barely, but with the supplies you left, some good stone by the way, we succeeded.  Those monsters tried yesterday, but our stonework held.  We can put in doors later, but for now, they can’t come up through the ground inside the city.”

“Never say can’t about darkspawn,” Liam cautioned, “but given your skills and knowledge, the City is as safe as possible.  I’ll set my wardens to keep watch.  We’ll sound the alarm should we sense any.”

“And the battlements and walls?” Nate asked.

“Also strengthened and holding,” Constable Aidan said.  “Master Glavonak and his crew have saved us, I think.  We placed small ballistas and trebuchets at key locations around the wall to slow their attacks and harm any ogres.  Two of your wardens came to help, Warden-Commander, Wardens Daveth and Oghren.”  He saw Liam raise his eyebrows.  “They’re billeted at the main gatehouse.”

“I should go see them, Nate.  If you’ll excuse me, I’ll talk with Daveth and see if there’s room for Anders, me and the three other wardens I brought.”  Liam looked at the Constable.  “We brought our own rations and bedding, so we won’t be a drain on your stores.”

Liam swung back through the harbor, finding Anders and three Soldier’s Peak wardens about to head into the City.  He led them through to the gatehouse, where he found Daveth on the roof, observing the surrounding countryside.  Smiling, Daveth offered an arm in greeting.  Grasping the other’s forearm, they shook and turned to look out over the settlement outside the walls.  Smoke poured from most buildings.

“We couldn’t hope to defeat the darkspawn outside the walls,” Daveth said, “and we don’t have near enough pills to give to the entire city, but we did give each guard one before we ran out.  With Voldrik’s work, we can hold the city from the horde we’ve seen so far and avoid facing too many ‘spawn directly.  Two ogres approached, but couldn’t overwhelm the walls.  We have some of Dworkin’s explosives and green fire to use in the trebuchets and that’s a help, against ogres, and the swarms of childers…the hatchling and adult versions anyway.”

“Children!  Is this an attack by the Mother, not the Architect?”

“It seems so.  We’ve heard no talkin’, no indication they’d kissed and made up,” Daveth said.  “We use the Guards’ archers against the hurlocks and genlocks.  Haven’t seen any shrieks…yet.  The soldiers hurl stones as the darkspawn approach the wall and try to climb or raise ladders.”

He waved at the destroyed settlement.  “Last time the settlement diverted them, even though all the folk had been brought inside, but next time….”

“They’ll focus on the city walls.”

“Just need to hope the new underground barriers hold.”  Daveth took a deep breath.  “There’s more Liam…er Ser.”  

“More?”

“The Vigil.  Before the Mother’s forces attacked, one of the Architect’s talkers showed up here and asked for me.  Calls himself the Messenger.  His message, from the Architect, tells us that this is the Mother’s force and that she has another force marching on the Vigil.  Seems she thinks she can destroy it while we defend the City.”

Liam rubbed his palms across his face and back through his hair.  “How many remain at the Vigil?  Who’s in charge?”

“Taina leads the wardens, with Seneschal Varel in overall charge, and Captain Garavel leading Nate’s troops.  Voldrik finished his work there, so no underground or cliffside entrances remain and the walls will hold.  Herrn and Wade completed refittin’ all the armor.  They have Dworkin’s explosives, his green fire, and Dworkin, plus bigger trebuchets and ballistas on the roof and the battlements.  The Vigil’s prepared.”

Daveth’s speech projected confidence, but Liam saw the doubt flit across his face as he spoke Taina’s name.  Leaning on the battlements, he sorted through his options.  _I_ _’ll let Nate know what the Messenger said, but I should go to the Vigil._   _Varel will work with Taina and my wardens, but Garavel could be a problem for them._ He knew that, not only did Garavel believe he reported directly to Nate and not to Varel, but he had family here in the City and might want to rush to the City’s aid. _And Nate._   _Losing the Vigil, not the building, but the people, will kill Nate, but so will losing Amaranthine City._ He gazed out over the ruins of the once thriving village where ravens and seagulls swooped over the debris. _Anders and I can fly to the Vigil.  The others can stay here and fight._ Straightening up, he told Daveth his plan.

“I’m not going to argue with Nate about this.  He doesn’t know about the shape shifting, so just tell him Anders and I already left, which will be true.  We’ll have a small boat drop us just west of the city and fly from there.  I’ll write a note for you to give to him, but not until after we leave.  I want us long gone by the time he reads it.”  He saw Daveth’s raised brows.  “I know, coward’s way out, but do you want explain that we shape-shifted?”

Daveth laughed.  “No. I’ll just carry the note.”  He hesitated, then cleared his throat.  “How’s Morrigan?”

“Enjoying motherhood,” Liam said smiling.  “His name’s Kieran.”

“Congratulations.  Seems Nate’s little one will have a playmate, then.”

Nodding, Liam motioned for Daveth to follow him back inside where he introduced Daveth to the three new wardens from Soldiers’ Peak and explained they already had experience fighting darkspawn in Kal’Hirol.  Adeliza, a mage who could heal and wreak havoc as well as Morrigan, or so Liam said, would give them a huge advantage; Ulf and Warin would provide blades. 

Daveth gave Liam and Anders time to get to the harbor before he set out for the Guard headquarters.  He found Nate with Delilah, Albert, Voldrik, and Constable Aidan bent over a map of the city walls, reviewing the placement of troops, ballistas and trebuchets and ordering stones, bolts, and green fire bottles brought up from the storerooms and stockpiled near the machines.  Albert, prior to becoming a merchant with House Haris, had spent time training with the Haris mercenary troop as an archer and artillery officer.  The calculations required to place an arrow, a skill at which Albert had excelled since childhood, translated to the skills one need to calculate the arc of a ballista bolt, bottle of green fire, or trebuchet shot.  Delilah, always good at calculations, helped with notes.  Aidan identified where the attackers might find cover and where they could be destroyed with a well-placed shot.  Voldrik confirmed whether the wall could support the engines.  They all looked up when Daveth entered and cleared his throat. 

“Can I speak with ye, Arl Howe?”

Frowning, Nate left the others at the table and joined Daveth.  “The Warden-Commander asked me to deliver this to ya.”  The Denerim rogue handed him Liam’s note and turned to leave.

“Not so fast, warden,” Nate said, looking up from the note.  “I may have orders for you.  Or questions.”

“Had to try, me lord.”

Nate broke the seal and began to read.  

_Nate,_

_You_ _’re needed here, but we’ve had a message warning of an attack, by the Mother, on the Vigil.  Anders and I will join Taina there.  The Soldier’s Peak wardens, Daveth, and Oghren, will remain in Amaranthine with you.  Perhaps you could send a bird to Varel and Garavel?  Let them know who will be in charge while you defend the City?_

Nate snorted. _Tactfully put.  What you mean:  Send a bird to tell Garavel to stay put and obey you and Varel._ He continued reading.

 _With Voldrik_ _’s repairs and the new armor, the Vigil can hold.  The message will ensure we’re prepared.  Oh, and the message came from the Architect.  His Messenger is with my wardens.  He wants to fight.  I suggest you let him, but it’s your choice.  Just let Daveth know._

_In War, Victory._

_Liam_

Nate did not quite glare at Daveth, but his eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms.  “A talking darkspawn will fight with you?” he asked.

“Only if you agree, me lord.  He’s locked in a cell in the gatehouse for now.”

Nate’s shoulders relaxed, but his arms remained crossed.  Daveth waited for him to work through the pros and cons, thinking it reminded of how Alistair thought things through.  Nate asked the obvious question, wondering whether the Messenger would carry Blight sickness.  Daveth admitted that he could, but not if he only fought with the wardens or troops who had taken the Blight pill. 

“We’ll keep him with us, me lord,” Daveth said.  “No wandering about the City.”

“Then, yes, we can use all the fighters we can find.”      

**9:32 Dragon Wintermarch ===  The Vigil**

Anders and Liam walked across the beach and followed a path through the dunes until the grass topped mounds of sand hid them from the galley rowing away from the shore.  Dropping their small packs, they stripped, stowed their clothing, and transformed.  The two ravens grabbed the straps of the packs with their claws and took off to the south as the sun set.  Liam felt safer flying at night, when he could see the fires of camps, but remain unseen by hunters or darkspawn. 

The forty miles between Amaranthine City and the Vigil took one long or two easy days to cover by foot and one day by horse.  The two ravens, weighed down by the packs they carried, still managed to arrive at the Vigil by dawn.  Although they had sensed darkspawn as they flew, they saw no sign of any near the fortress.  The two ravens dropped their packs at the edge of the forest just outside the Vigil’s gate, landed, transformed, dressed, and shouldered their packs.  Careful to enter the road out of sight of the sentries they rounded a bend and headed for the gate.   As tired as he was, Liam hoped Nathaniel had sent the bird letting Garavel know the Arl’s orders, and nipping any opposition in the bud.  He and Varel needed the Vigil’s troops here.  Nate had enough troops in the City, given the reinforced walls and blocked tunnels.  He did not care if Garavel himself decided to go to Amaranthine’s relief, just that the troops he commanded remain here. 

The guards recognized the Warden-Commander and opened the wicket gate to let Liam and Anders through.  The two wardens exchanged a look when they heard the shouting.  The guard quickly moved away, to avoid any questions, so the two men moved towards the sound.  They found Garavel and Varel glaring at each other.

“’Trouble?” Liam asked.  _So much for Nate_ _’s note settling matters._

Garavel whirled around, transferring his glare to Liam.  Raising a fist, he shook it, holding tightly to the small curl of paper held between his thumb and forefinger.

“I assume I have _you_ to thank for this?”

“What is ‘this’,” Liam asked.

“The message you had Arl Howe send from Amaranthine,” Garavel snarled.

“Arl Nathaniel does not take orders from me, or anyone but the Queen and her representatives.”

Garavel snorted.  “This tells me to remain here and fight, rather than go to the aid of the City.  Amaranthine City will fall without our aid.”

“The Vigil will fall without its troops, Captain Garavel,” Seneschal Varel said, succeeding in keeping his voice even.  

“Fall to whom?” Garavel growled. “There’s no attack here.”

“A large darkspawn force marches toward the Vigil as we argue,” Liam said.  “That’s why Anders and I came from Amaranthine.  Arl Nathaniel and his officers know what faces them in the City.  Voldrik has reinforced the city walls and blocked any underground tunnels.  I left a force of wardens with them under Daveth.  They believe they can hold the city.

“If you leave now, you may be attacked by the second darkspawn army on the Pilgrim’s Path before you can reach the City.  That would leave both the City and the Vigil undefended.”

“And where is this great darkspawn force-”

As he spoke a shout went up from the walls.  “Darkspawn!  They’re coming from all directions.”

Garavel, eyes widening for a moment, spun on his heel and strode off to marshal the defenders.

Liam looked up at the hill behind the Vigil, where Nate had found a cave leading to a cliff path from which he attacked the fortress from above.  Following his gaze, Varel put a hand on his arm and assured him that Voldrik had blocked the cliffside entrances, just as he had the underground passages.  Any darkspawn attack would have to cross the open farmlands in front of the outer wall, and breach the newly strengthened fortifications, where trebuchets and ballistas stood ready next to piles of stone, iron bolts, and bundles of dry straw.  The open land provided a wide field of fire for the Vigil’s archers, ballistas, and trebuchets. 

In a hut with a tiled roof, built against the interior wall of the keep, cases of green liquid fire, Dworkin’s more powerful version of Antivan fire, lay on wood pallets.  As darkspawn approached the outer wall, the defenders would hurl the bottles onto the monsters, burning them as the viscous fluid spread.  While it would not stop the darkspawn, it would slow them.  As most of the Vigil’s troops ran to take their positions on the walls at Garavel’s order, a dozen hurried to the hut to carry several of the cases to positions along the battlements near small trebuchets, designed to hurl the bottles from the sling.  They hoped the darkspawn would not have their own siege engines, but, with the advent of talking monsters, they could not be sure.

Sending Anders to the infirmary, which Warden Jowan had already set up in an out building near the inner gate, Liam headed to the rooftop ramparts where his casting could reach the entire outer courtyard and beyond.  He focused on mass healing and rejuvenation spells, leaving fire to the glass bottles.  Jowan and Anders would use their offensive spells where needed, while preserving their mana for healing individuals.  Not for the first time, he wished for a mage with Morrigan’s destructive skills, but he did not regret leaving Adeliza in the City with Nate.  They had the bottles of fire, a warden, and the Vigil’s troops under Garavel.  That would have to do.  He watched as the darkspawn withdrew to cheers from the battlements.

 _They_ _’re testing us.  That’s only an advance guard, but we didn’t sense them as we flew in.  There must be other tunnels in the mountains outside the fortress.  The main force hasn’t arrived yet. They may probe again, but an attack in force will come and we may not sense it._ Liam chuckled, mirthlessly, to himself.  _Since when did I become such a strategist?  Alistair taught me well.  We_ _’ll have to watch for the Mother’s Children to confirm this is her attack.  The Architect claimed the attack comes from the Mother, but they both have sentient, talking leaders and the Architect has lied before._

“They’re probing,” a voice said, “and you’re right, they have some sort of intelligence leading them.”  Garavel came to stand beside him, arms folded across his chest.  “I would not have believed it, but those tall ones gave orders to the others.”

“Hurlocks,” Liam said, as he continued to look out over the ramparts at the retreating ‘spawn.  “They tend to lead during a Blight, too, but they get their orders from the Archdemon.  These…these think for themselves to some degree.”  He looked at Garavel.  “Good thing you didn’t use the fire bottles.  That will surprise them when they come again.  And they will come again.  We need to stay on alert.  Anders and I did not sense them.  There must be a tunnel through the mountains out there.”

The man nodded.  “I have family in Amaranthine.”

“The Arl will hold the city, Garavel.  He has family there too and I left five of my wardens, which comes close to the same thing for me.  With the wardens, the Guard, and the former mercenaries who stayed with Nate, they can hold the City.”

Garavel looked at Liam and nodded again.  “Too late to leave now.  We’d only be attacked, as you said.  Best to win here and then relieve the City.”

The two men returned to the main hall of the keep to meet with Colum, Varel, and Garavel’s lieutenants.  Patrols remained on the walls, watching for feints or a renewed attack.  The leaders sent the rest to eat and sleep.  Liam had paired each of Garavel’s squads with a warden to alert them to darkspawn danger when they patrolled.  Following an established rota, a squad and its warden patrolled the walls for four turns of the glass before being relieved.  During each period, another squad patrolled the dungeons and a third took its turn on the roof.  Liam, Varel and Garavel trusted Voldrik’s repairs, but left nothing to chance, knowing the darkspawn’s talent for digging or appearing from underground.

The dawn hour passed in silent darkness as the sky remained cloud covered and rain began to fall.  Soldiers on the outer battlements peered through the downpour, unsure if they saw darkspawn or windblown bushes and trees.  Garavel walked the wall behind his troops, stopping to peer out, asking a soldier what she saw, or patting an archer, his bow unstrung, on the shoulder in approval.  No need to let bowstrings get wet until the monsters attacked and their green fire would work for them even in the rain.

**x==========x**

The darkspawn did not disappoint.  The shadows Garavel struggled to see soon turned into swarming childer grubs followed by genlocks and hurlocks.  Flaming arrows arced over the walls in an attempt to set fire to the few thatched roofs remaining on buildings in the outer bailey.  The arrows falling on roof tiles failed to ignite, while the rain doused the smoldering wet thatch.

The Children, a mix of childer hatchlings and mature adult children, did not fare as well, in the open field around the Vigil’s walls, when the green fire landed among them and spread, aided by the rain.  A wall of flame rose, slowing the approach of the darkspawn behind.  Some of the Children managed to reach the Vigil’s outer wall and began to climb, but so few that the soldiers could stop them as they reached the battlements.  Other flaming hatchlings headed toward the wooden gate as Liam watched from the roof.  _Does the Mother or her Disciples control the Children?  Do they hope to fire the gate before they die?_   He heard shouting from the field, but could make out no words.  Soon after, genlocks and hurlocks burst through the flames, some carrying burning wooden ladders.  Others carried charred bows whose strings snapped or splintered when pulled.  The archers on the wall, and on the roof around Liam, loosed round after round into the horde as it attempted to attack the gate, while the ballistas and trebuchets continued to rain bolts and stone shot.  

Garavel, wielding his sword against the Children who reached the rampart, raised it with a shout as the swarm of chittering Children fell to him and the other soldiers.  In the field, where only a pall of grey smoke remained to be dissipated by the rain, the genlocks and hurlocks pulled back on the shouted orders of a Disciple he could barely see, standing at the edge of the wood.  He leaned over the battlement to view the gate, which stood, scarred by flames, but holding.  Around him, the soldiers began to cheer.

From his perch on the rooftop battlements, Liam shouted in vain to stop the celebration.  Anders, on the rampart with Garavel, sensed the danger and shot a bolt of ice along the outside of the wall to get the soldiers’ attention. 

“It’s not over you fool!” he yelled.  “There’s more ‘spawn in the woods.  They’re regrouping, not leaving.”  The other wardens on the rampart echoed his warning, sobering the soldiers. 

Taina approached Garavel and pointed towards the woods where the darkspawn had reformed in a line. 

“We wiped out the Children, we think, but there’s still more ‘spawn in that forest.  Anders will help any injured back to the infirmary, but the rest of your troops should remain vigilant.”

Garavel stared out over the field surrounding the Vigil and saw the genlocks lining up.  A tall hurlock in armor waved his arms, clearly directing them.  He yelled to the troops to resume their position.  As he did, other soldiers delivered more cases of green fire, bolts, arrows, and stones.  He looked back to the hut, where Varel stood directing the resupply.  Using the lull to restring bows, clean swords, and steal a swig of water or something stronger, the guard, refreshed, stood ready.

Above them, Liam held a tube to his eye and Garavel wondered what it was.  Taina explained it helped him see things far away more clearly and that it had been the Alistair’s.  Liam pointed as they watched him and they both turned to look. 

“Bronto piss!  It’s a nug-humping armored ogre.”  Taina snarled.

Garavel’s jaw dropped.  “How do we fight that?”

Taina shouted to the troops on the outer wall.  “We have green fire, ballista bolts, and trebuchet shot.  Aim it all at that monster.  Forget the others.  We need to bring the ogre down before it reaches the wall.”

“Cloud-gazer!  You!  Garavel!”  she shouted at the Captain mesmerized by the scene before him.

The guard captain finally looked at her, swallowed, and nodded.  “We’ll get it before it gets to us, warden.”

“I’ll stay here, Taina,” Anders said.  “I think a few frost and paralysis spells will help.  I can heal from here as well.”

“Just watch your mana, Anders.”

He patted the scrip on his belt.  “Full of lyrium,” he assured her.

“Just don’t take too much,” she said and hurried off to find Justice, Denis, and the newer wardens, Padar and Fulke, who had joined them Soldiers’ Peak a few months before.  Colum would remain on the roof with his two Nevarrans and Liam, while Jowan stayed with the injured.  The troops on the battlements might weaken the ogre, but she was not leaving its death to chance.  She gathered the four wardens and left the Vigil through the wicket gate, sending a message up to Liam to let him know what she had done.  _Better to apologize afterwards, than ask permission and be denied._

“We have one mission, cloudheads,” she told the four wardens before they left the fortress, “kill the ogre.  Then we retreat into the Vigil.  With the ogre dead, we can take care of the others.”  She gave Justice, a spirit who had inhabited the body of a dead warden called Kristoff, a stern look.  “One mission, Justice.  Got it?”

“Kill the ogre, yes, but–”

“–one mission.  It’s not our job to die today.  Don’t get surrounded by the other ‘spawn.  The ogre will push ahead of the line of other darkspawn and we will attract it, kill it, and retreat to the Vigil.  Only fight the other ‘spawn to get back here.”

“Do we have a plan beyond kill it?” Denis asked.

Taina grinned.  “Yep.  Draw it to you and away from the other darkspawn.  I will get behind it and hamstring it.  Once it collapses, one of you end it.  Cut its throat.”

“And then get back inside,” Denis repeated.

“No dying today,” Taina said.  “Let Garavel’s soldiers take care of the hurlocks and genlocks.” 

The four warrior wardens spread out in front of the wall to the right of the gate and moved forward.  Taina moved silently through the field on the right side of the road, using what shadow and cover she could to stay hidden.  Denis, Justice, Padar and Fulke unsheathed their swords, raised them and began yelling.

From the rooftop, Liam watched the five wardens leave the fortress.  He quickly understood what Taina planned.  _If it works it_ _’s brilliant; if not, I’ll kill her myself._ He looked down at Garavel and soldiers on the outer wall, both surprised and pleased to see Anders there.  _I hope they don_ _’t rain down friendly fire - of any kind - on my wardens._ As he watched, the archers and ballista operators sent arrows and bolts over the heads of the wardens toward the ogre that marched towards them. 

The wardens outside the wall moved closer together, enticing the ogre to turn towards them and towards the Vigil’s vulnerable wooden gate. 

“If it has orders, it will understand the gate is its best target,” Denis said to his fellow wardens.  They stood their ground, letting the ogre come to them. 

Taina crept from shadow to shade through the mist and drizzle, which was all that remained of the heavy downpour.  _Mizzle.  That_ _’s what Lys always called this._   She angled towards the road, never straying too far from the others.  _I don_ _’t want it to sense me separately from the others._ She looked back at her companions standing with swords drawn fifty paces in front of the gate.  She saw the ogre turn towards them, well ahead of the genlocks and hurlocks who advanced in a line behind him.  _So disciplined.  We need to rid Thedas of the Disciples and their leaders._ She took a deep breath. _But first we need to win this battle._

As she watched, the ogre began to run towards the wardens.  Denis and Justice held their ground, but the other two stepped back.  She had to bite her tongue to not yell and give herself away.  Denis did yell and the two wardens stepped forward again, bracing themselves against the coming attack.  Suddenly, the ogre stopped.  She saw Denis wave his arms as a boulder flew toward their position, but the four wardens had scattered to either side, taking no damage and frustrating the monster who moved forward. 

The ogre had taken only a few huge steps before it stopped, frozen, opposite her own spot.  Taina grinned.  _Thank you, Anders._ She rushed across the road as her companions reached the immobile ogre and began slashing at its hands, arms and torso in the spaces between its ill-fitting plate.  She slipped behind, and severed first his ankle tendons and then, with Justice helping on the right leg, the muscles behind the monster’s knees. 

_“Move aside, Justice,”_ she yelled as the creature began to topple. _“Stay clear of the arms.”_

Before the ogre recovered from the spell, Denis had jumped on its chest and slit its throat.  Taina heard someone yell, ‘kill the wardens’ and looked up to see a swarm of genlocks and hurlocks converging on their position.  Denis and the two wardens in front of the beast retreated, yelling at Justice and Taina to join them, but before they could, the first darkspawn attacked.  Blocked by the body of the ogre, Taina had no way to retreat.  She stood, her back to the ogre and began to fight, always trying to sidle along the ogre’s body towards her companions as she killed another ‘spawn, and each time finding another hurlock or genlock taking the dead one’s place. 

With a howl, Justice launched himself at the rear of the darkspawn surrounding Taina.  One after another fell until he had cut a path for them both and they fled towards the gate, where Denis and the others waited.  Once the defenders on the wall had clear targets, the archers sent flights of arrows into the pursuing darkspawn, stone shot and bolts tore through the attackers, and ice and paralysis slowed their progress.  As the wardens reached the gate the wicket opened and the five wardens tumbled through. 

Justice, with a gash in his thigh, and Fulke, an arrow sprouting from near her shoulder blade, collapsed just inside the gate. 

“Get them to the infirmary,” Taina ordered, as Anders hurried toward them.

“That body won’t work for him much longer,” Anders murmured, as two of the wardens carried Justice away.  “I can’t repair the limbs of a dead man.”

“Do what you can, Anders.  Maybe Liam has figured out how to get him back into the Fade.  He was going to ask Morrigan and Avernus.  Do you know if he did?”

Anders shook his head no.  “Justice wasn’t exactly on his mind.  You know…baby.”

Taina grinned.  “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate him.  Only Daveth and I knew about Morrigan.  Was it a boy?”

“A boy called Kieran.  He and Morrigan are doing splendidly, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m sure she would say ‘ _twas_ her doing and not yours.”  Taina sobered, watching the bearers ‘round the corner towards the hospice with Justice.  Anders followed her gaze.

“Can he jump to another body?” Taina asked.  “There may be an opportunity in the infirmary.”

“We’ll keep him in a separate space,” Anders replied.  “He won’t have the chance.”

Behind them a cheer went up and Taina turned away to climb to the battlements, while Anders hurried to help Jowan with the injured.  Looking out over the battlefield, Taina saw dead or dying darkspawn, including the huge armored ogre and a tall, armored hurlock.  The few ‘spawn remaining retreated, rushing into the forest and back to their ‘Mother’.  The Vigil had held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	9. Why Does That Not Surprise Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:32 Dragon Wintermarch at the Vigil and Amaranthine City; Cloudreach in Kirkwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 9: Why Does That Not Surprise Me?**

**9:32 Dragon, Wintermarch === The Vigil**

The day after the battle, Garavel joined Varel, Liam, Colum, and Taina in a small room off the main hall of Vigil’s Keep.  “I sent the bird to Amaranthine City,” he announced, “but we’ve heard nothing from them.”

“The City will hold,” Liam said, looking to Varel, “but should we send a relief column?   Do we have the troops to spare?  It would have to be a strong force, in case it met with retreating ‘spawn.  I can spare several wardens.”

Varel sat back in his chair, as Taina poked Garavel and whispered that he should keep quiet.  The Captain glared at her, but closed his mouth, pressing his lips together.  He knew her lover defended the City, so she had a special interest in its survival, just as he did.  The both waited for Varel’s response. The Seneschal brought both palms to his face and massaged his temples.  Finally, he spoke.  “It worries me that we’ve heard nothing from the Arl, but these darkspawn might be smart enough to shoot the birds down - both ours and any coming from the City.”  He leaned forward and stared at the map spread out on the table in front of him.  “There are forest tracks that parallel the Pilgrim’s Path to the west.  Can we send our troops along those tracks and avoid any ambushes on the main road?”

Garavel nodded slowly.  “We can, but we’ll need to keep skirmishers and scouts out to ensure no darkspawn surprise us.   And, while I appreciate your wardens, Liam, they also attract the ‘spawn, do they not?”

Sighing, Liam acknowledged the risk.

“We’ll scout,” Taina said.  “One warden and one soldier, with the soldier retreating back to the main body if darkspawn do attack.  If it’s just a few, we can handle them and continue.  If not, we can hold them off and let your troops prepare or retreat.  They won’t sense you.”

“Keep the wardens away from the main body.  That might work,” Garavel agreed and looked at Varel.

“Take a third of our troops, Garavel.”  Varel turned towards Liam.  “Who will you send, Liam?”

“Taina will lead, but I’ll go along too.”

“As will I,” Colum said.  “And my two Nevarrans.  We have the best taint sense, having been wardens the longest.”  He held up his hand as he saw Taina about to speak.  “I’m fully recovered, Warden Taina.  I’ve been sparring every day and thrashing every opponent.  We three will scout to the north and east, while you and Liam take the west and south.”

“There’ll be three of us as well, Colum,” Liam said.  “We’ll bring Padar along.”

Varel stood.  “Garavel, take what supplies you need and be ready to leave before dawn tomorrow.  You know the road from the Vigil, so the dark won’t hinder you and you’ll have daylight once you reach the forest track.  Even following forest paths, you should arrive in Amaranthine by nightfall tomorrow, should nothing ill befall you en route.”

Garavel snorted.  “That’s a big should, Seneschal.  Let’s hope we attract no monsters and find them gone from the City when we arrive.”

**9:32 Dragon, Wintermarch === Amaranthine City**

The forest thinned out as the column of horse troopers approached Amaranthine City on a path that skirted the edge of the Feravel Plain.  Smoke curled upwards from burned out farmholds to the west, while cattle, pigs, and chickens, those that had not burned in their enclosures, ran free.  The scouts moved closer to the main column, their usefulness at an end.  Every trooper could see the surrounding countryside and no darkspawn appeared, but ahead, more smoke smudged the horizon.

Colum and Liam joined Garavel at the head of the column. 

“Still some darkspawn ahead, but I sense more to our west.  I’d guess the City held and the ‘spawn left the city for easier pickings,” Colum said.  “Small bands, nothing very large, but at least half a dozen of them roam across the Plains.”

Garavel looked back at the fifty troops following them.  “Let’s go to the city first.  I want to know what the Arl wants us to do, if he even knows we’re coming.  Varel sent a bird, but….”  He shrugged, acknowledging that it might not have gotten through.  “We’ll fight any ‘spawn we meet, but I’m not splitting up our troop into smaller patrols when we don’t know what’s out there.”

“We know there’s darkspawn-” Colum began.

“-we don’t know how many or what Arl Howe needs in the City.”

“Let me take my wardens and six of your troops,” Colum countered.  “These talkers, the Disciples, there aren’t that many of them.  I doubt one leads the attacks in the Plains, so the darkspawn patrols won’t be organized.  We can take them one-by-one.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Liam agreed.  “Garavel, what do you think?”

The Amaranthine captain frowned, and then waved to one of his sergeants.  “Eduard, take five troops and go with the wardens.  You’ll find and destroy any small darkspawn patrols you find under Warden Colum’s command.  He’ll know where they are and how many you’ll face.  See how many farmers and farms you can save, and gather up any animals.  Leave any survivors in charge of what you find.  We’ll need the livestock and crops to feed Ferelden.”

Liam, Taina, and Padar remained with Garavel as the main column continued towards the smoke on the horizon.  The wardens sensed darkspawn around the city, but, as Liam relayed to Garavel and the others, not the army he expected.  With so few before them they decided to approach the main gate and hope to fight through.  _We need to know if they killed scores of darkspawn or if the horde retreated to attack elsewhere._   As if reading his mind, Garavel ordered the troop, riding three abreast, to increase its pace to a canter through the now forested track that merged with the Pilgrim’s Path a half mile or so from Amaranthine City.

Cresting a hill on the Pilgrim’s Path, before its final approach, Garavel signaled a halt.  Amaranthine lay before them, darkspawn shooting arrows over the wall and milling about below the battlements, trying and failing to raise ladders.  Smoke swirled around the monsters, periodically obscuring them and the fighters on the wall defending the city.  Beyond the wall, much of Amaranthine burned. 

“Thatched roofing,” Garavel muttered.  Seeing Liam’s questioning look, he elaborated.  “The Orlesians, supported by Arl Tarleton Howe, built this city during the Occupation and they wanted it done quickly and cheaply.  Thatch is readily available in the marshes and along the coast.  The City survived the Occupation, but no one replaced the thatch.  As you see, it burns well.”

They watched as more flaming arrows flew over the wall.

“Let’s hope the citizens fled to the chantry or the docks,” Liam said.

The Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer stood above the city, its tile roof intact.  Figures appeared through the smoke shrouding the Chantry’s great plaza.  Arrows arced onto the darkspawn archers from behind its low walls.  From the City walls, other soldiers fought off the few darkspawn who attempted to raise ladders against the wall or shot arrows at the darkspawn archers.

Garavel turned to his lieutenant and sergeants.  “At a trot, cut them down.  There can’t be more than three score.”  He looked at Liam.  “The darkspawn don’t ride horses, do they?”

Liam shook his head no.

“Good. The defenders will know we come to relieve them, then.”  Giving his sergeants time to ride down the line of troops, he raised his arm, circled it, and pointed forward.  The troops, now five abreast, began at a walk but soon broke into a trot.  As the road widened, groups of five spread out to broaden the attack, the pounding of hooves masked by the roar of the fires.  The darkspawn, screeching and squealing amidst the smoke and ash, noticed the approaching troopers too late.  Short cavalry swords slashed at throats and spears plunged into torsos as the Vigil’s soldiers, with their warden allies, broke through the line of archers and attacked the hurlocks and genlocks at the base of the wall.  A cheer went up from the defenders above them.

Taina, less comfortable on horseback than the others, jumped off near a fallen ogre and, with her back to the monster, began attacking the nearest archers.  Liam joined her, alternating healing and fire.  Behind them the great gate opened and Amaranthine Guard poured out, along with Daveth, leading the wardens Liam had left with Nate.  The remaining darkspawn fell.

**x==========x**

The City Guard, Amaranthine troops, and wardens spent the night putting out fires, aided by a long line of citizens, who passed water buckets from the harbor into the city, while wagons trundled in and out of the harbor gate with barrels full of sea water to aid the effort.  By morning, although small fires still smoldered, and some flared up when the wind blew sparks onto a patch of dry material, most of the large conflagrations had been extinguished.  Slowly householders returned to assess what was left of their homes and businesses, while carters continued to unload barrels of sea water around the City in case of flare ups.

Built on a rise above the main town, the stone Guard House with its tile roof had survived the flames that enveloped the shops and houses of the lower city.  Our Lady stood high above the town, providing refuge for its citizens, as did the smoke damaged - but otherwise intact - Crown and Lion Inn.  The wall stood, continuing to protect the City, and the harbor and docks remained usable.  Any ships had anchored offshore during the battle, standing ready to evacuate citizens, had it become necessary. 

Nate seemed to appear everywhere as the morning wore on.  Persuading the innkeeper at the Crown and Lion to use his kitchens to provide meals, checking on food and healing supplies at the Chantry, ensuring the Guard continued patrolling the walls, inspecting the underground tunnels for incursions, and asking ships’ captains to ferry supplies from Higheverport, Ostwick, and Markham, where his cousin Frederick had retaken his family’s estate and leadership seat on the ruling Council.  Delilah and Albert, each accompanied by a warden and two guards, surveyed the damage to shops and homes.  Our Lady the Redeemer provided both a hospice and refuge.  Chantry healers and a few mage healers cared for the wounded, the brothers’ dormitory housed the men working on cleanup, the sisters’ dormitory provided the same for women workers, and families filled the great nave.  The Guard and wardens used the Guard House barracks and wall stations for sleep and meals.  For once, the Alienage, tucked into a corner of the wall on the northeast side of the City, near the harbor and beyond the Chantry’s great stonework, remained untouched by fire.  Stripped of most of its inhabitants by Rendon Howe’s slave trading, the small community of elves, led by their Hahren, offered refuge to human and dwarven women and children, while the human and dwarves’ other family members fought the fires and, with the new day, began to clear rubble.

The Hahren joined Nate, Delilah, Constable Aidan, Garavel, Liam, Taina and Daveth at the Guard House for a mid-day meal.  He held to his request that no human or dwarven men stay in the Alienage.  Disparaging attitudes towards elves from the old Arl’s time remained among both Guards and citizens.  While he appreciated the young Arl’s efforts, he also wanted to ensure his peoples’ safety.  Delilah agreed with him, but noted that the Guard now included elves.  She suggested paired elven and human guards patrol the Alienage so that a few humans and dwarves at a time could visit their families, but not stay.

“I fear banning them entirely from their families will create resentments,” Delilah said.  “Letting in a few at a time during the day should alleviate that.  Particularly when they see their wives and children well cared for by your people, Hahren.”

The Hahren agreed to Delilah’s plan and she assured him she would personally visit each day as well.

Once the immediate needs had been addressed, Nate, thinking ahead, began to outline his thoughts on rebuilding Amaranthine City.  Liam and his wardens excused themselves to decide how they would proceed.  The Messenger joined them.  At some point they would have to find his master, but, for now, the Architect posed no immediate threat.

“He’s using us to destroy his enemy,” Taina protested, when Liam agreed to move against the Mother.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” the Messenger said, in his strange, guttural accent.

“He has a point,” Daveth murmured.  Taina gave him a side-eyed glare.

“How do we know they are enemies?  We could attack this Mother and find the Architect attacking us.”

“What alternative do you suggest, Taina?” Liam asked.

She fell silent for a time.  “Prepare for treachery, I suppose.  Attack the Mother, but watch our backs.”

“Always good advice,” Colum said.  He looked at Liam.  “Do we ask Nathaniel for troops?”

“No.  This is a warden problem.  We’ll go in force, but only wardens.  We’ll leave a couple wardens here and two more at the Vigil, to provide warning if any darkspawn attack, but everyone else goes with us.  Are you still with us, Colum?”

The Nevarran nodded.

“What about the wardens at Soldier’s Peak?” Daveth asked.

“We’re heading west.  This place is in the mountains just to the east of the Peak.  I asked Sigrun to lead five wardens to guard our backs while we’re in these Wastes.  The rest will stay at the Peak,” Liam said.  “Should the worst happen, they’ll be all that’s left.  Colum, send word to your Warden Commander so he knows we could be wiped out.  Nate can send word to the Regents.”  He stood.  “Take two days to get ready.  I’ve already sent a bird to the Vigil.  Our brothers and sisters will join us by tomorrow night.  We’ll leave at dawn by galley for the Dragonbone Wastes.  The boat can let us off on the coast to north and we’ll march from there.”

**x==========x**

The next evening a dirty, tired group of wardens arrived in Amaranthine City and marched into the Gatehouse quarters the other wardens had used since Daveth arrived weeks ago. 

“Where’s Justice?” Liam asked, seeing only Jowan, Anders, Denis and Fulke in the main bunk room.

Denis and Anders exchanged a look and Anders nodded his head towards Liam.  Sighing, Denis spoke, “It seems Kristoff’s body could no longer support Justice, so…well,” he looked at Jowan. 

Before he could continue Jowan stepped forward and spoke in Justice’s voice.   “The mage offered to join with me,” Justice intoned.  “I accepted.”

“Join with you,” Liam said slowly.  “Jowan?”

“We’re both here,” Jowan’s voice answered.  “It’s strange, but not unpleasant.  I couldn’t leave him…it, in that decaying body, Warden-Commander.”  The face relaxed into Jowan’s more typical expression, eyes downcast, and he began fidgeting.  “Anders couldn’t fix it and you weren’t there,” he accused. 

“You just let Justice take over your body?” Liam asked, rubbing his forehead.  “Just like that?”

“We discussed it,” Justice said.  “The mage agreed.”

“Right.”  Shaking his head slightly, Liam threw up his hands. _Why does this not surprise me?  Jowan.  Always looking for an easy way to acquire more power._   “No time to worry about it now, we have more pressing matters to address.”  _Maker, I should have done more research on spirit possession with Morrigan and in the library at the Peak._ He watched his wardens settle in. _A spirit of Justice possessing a blood mage._

As if reading his mind, Anders murmured, “What can go wrong?”  He continued, “I found nothing in the library at the Peak when I looked.  Even Avernus had no idea how to separate him from a body and send Justice back.”  Sensing the question Liam had not asked, he added, “You had other concerns, as did Morrigan.”

“I did ask Morrigan,” Liam said, “when I told her about Justice.  She hadn’t heard of Spirit possession either, well beyond Wynne’s Spirit of Faith.  She said she would try to figure something out, but…as you said, we had other concerns.  Nothing in the library?”

Anders shook his head.  “Too much on demon possession, a little about allying with Spirits residing in the Fade, but not a Spirit possessing a body in this world or how to return it to the Fade.  Then again, I’m not sure templars or Chantry folk would recognize or acknowledge a difference between a spirit and a demon.  Returning a spirit to the Fade wouldn’t be an option for them.”

“What about…” Liam stopped.  “Even Connor Guerrin’s Desire demon remained in the Fade, which let Morrigan defeat it there.  Justice is here.”    

“And once a demon possesses a person, it dies with what’s left of the person.  It may be the same for a spirit.”

“Right…so we just watch him, for now.”  Liam saw Jowan curl up in the bed farthest from the rest of the group.  “He’s always been a little off, but now?  A resentful, sullen mage joined with a Spirit of Justice.”

“I’ll watch him,” Anders promised.  “You worry about the rest of us.  You…we can decide how to deal with him after we destroy this Mother and her brood.  Jowan can still heal and he’s a more powerful, or maybe a more focused, elemental mage now, so that will help in the battle.”  _And maybe a powerful Spirit of Justice can serve our cause._

**9:32 Dragon, Cloudreach ===  Kirkwall**

Alistair slashed at the last mercenary.  The man fell at his feet and he stepped back, only to feel hands push him away.  He spun around and found Bethany Hawke glaring at him. 

“You’re a templar!” she hissed through clenched teeth.  “You’re spying.  Wearing normal armor, joining us for Wicked Grace and Diamond Back.   Why haven’t you taken me in?  Do you think I’ll lead you to others?”

To her surprise, he smiled. 

“Where’s that sign when I need it,” he muttered through the grin.  He took a deep breath and the grin, which had softened his hard features, disappeared.  “I’m not a templar, Bethany.  As a child, I trained as a templar, but I left the Chantry and never took vows.  I just have the skills.  A wise mage I used to know told me I can use them because my mother was a mage.  I have mana.  Not much, but enough to allow me to perform without the lyrium most templars need.”

“A mage?  Your mother was an apostate?”

“More complicated, but close enough.  She gave me up, so I didn’t know her.”  _At least, not then._   He tilted his head.  “I didn’t smite you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I did.  I just thought-”

“-I missed?  I don’t miss.  I can channel it.  Just stay to my side or behind me, where you’re most effective anyway.”  His mouth quirked, but the appealing grin did not reappear.  “And don’t hit me with a spell!”

“I don’t-”

He almost grinned again.  “-I know.”

“Is there a problem, Beth?”

“No.  I was just complementing Alun on his skills.”

Rory Hawke looked from her sister to the newest member of her group of companions.  The tall, muscular warrior certainly had skills.  He used two blades, unlike Aveline with her shield or Fenris with his great sword.  He had an agility, almost rogue-like, that Aveline lacked.  She had seen him roll, duck and lunge as fluidly as she could.  The moves explained the more flexible armor he wore over an unusual gambeson and, on these last two missions, he had showed he could use a bow.  

With Aveline devoting her time to the Guards, most recently Hawke’s team had consisted of Fenris, Varric, Bethany and Alun, and they had begun to perform as if their battle dances were choreographed.  Alun, however, could always surprise.  On one jaunt, he had picked up a bow, strapped on a full quiver, and shot at an approaching group of bandits.  He killed all five before they could reach the heights above the trail where the team had stopped. _I have good eyes,_ had been his explanation, and _I learned to shoot as a child._

Fenris, still suspicious of the newcomer, had asked how he had even known the bandits were there. 

“Good ears,” Ser Alun had answered.   “Didn’t you hear them?” 

Fenris had frowned.  “I’m an elf,” he had answered, “and yes, I had just heard the…you noticed me listening?” 

Alun had shrugged, implying he had observed the elf’s reactions and Fenris seemed satisfied.

“Do I have blood on my face?  Or egg from breakfast?”  Alun asked, staring back at Hawke.

“No, I was just thinking.”  Rory collected herself and waved towards the young man slumped against a boulder.   “Let’s collect anything useful from the Winters’ camp.  They won’t be returning to Nevarra with it.  Then we’ll take Seamus back to his father.”

“He’s so…sad,” Bethany said.  “The Qunari, Rashaad, he really was Seamus’ friend.”

“You sound like that’s an impossibility,” Alistair said. 

“Well, unless you want to join the Qun….”

“Qunari can befriend non-qunari.  The Qun allows it under some circumstances.”

“Have you had a Qunari friend, then? Or are you just an expert?” Bethany asked, an edge to her voice.

“I am not an expert, but I did have a qunari friend.  During the Blight.  The task his Arishok gave to him did not demand he kill me or convert me.  I heard he returned to Seheron.”  His lips softened, almost into a smile.  “With a mabari.”

“A mabari?”

“He admired the mabari’s dedication to duty and loyalty.  Her mistress died.”

“Her?”

“Female mabari fight too.  Sten nursed her back to health and she bonded to him.  Sometimes that happens.  He’ll take good care of her.”  He sheathed his swords and walked towards the far side of the camp, searching chests, tents and bodies as he went.  When he finished, he approached Hawke.  “Do you want me to scout ahead?  Make sure there’s no more of these Winters holed up on our way out?”  He carried the bow he had taken from one of the archers.

“Please,” Hawke said.  “Meet us where this trail meets the main one.”  She watched the man walk up hill towards the coast path.  _He_ _’s more than he admits, but Varric says I can trust him._

“It’s beautiful in its own way,” Alun said aloud, standing on the cliff that overlooked the Waking Sea waiting for the others to join him.  

A voice from behind him said, “Beauty?”  He turned.  Rory Hawke stood, one blade sheathed and the other still in her left hand.  In her right hand, she held a bloody rag, which she wiped along the second blade. 

“Alun has a point, Sis,” Bethany said as she joined them.  “When there aren’t any Tal Vashoth or bandits or mercenaries attacking us, it is beautiful in its a way.  A harsh beauty.”

Hawke’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her sister.  “Let’s get a move on,” Hawke yelled.  _Time enough to talk to Bethany later._   She glanced at Alun again.  _He did something to that Winters_ _’ mage before he ran him through.  He’s not a mage, so… what, a templar?_  She shook her head. _Not if Beth is befriending him._

Bethany dropped back to walk with Alun.  “You need to tell my sister about your skills.  She’ll notice and may not ask questions first.”

He nodded and smiled his more customary tight-lipped grin.  “She’s protective.”

“Too much so, sometimes.”

“Varric knows which proves he _can_ keep a secret.”

“Until he puts it in one his books,” Bethany said, lowering her voice to conspiratorial tones.  “ _The Surreptitious Templar_.  He escaped from the Chantry, but took its deepest secrets when he left.”

Alun did laugh then.  “Maybe you should write.  You wouldn’t be far wrong either…about the deepest secrets.  They don’t like to lose templars.”

**x==========x**

Varric knocked on Alun’s door and pushed it open when he found it unlocked.  “Planning on joining us for Wicked Grace tonight, Grey?” he yelled, as Alun spun around and took a defensive stance, blades in hand.  Varric raised his own hands, palms up, “Whoa, just asking.”

Alun narrowed his gaze at Varric’s use of the nickname.  The dwarf had begun calling him Grey some weeks earlier, around the time an old acquaintance of Varric’s arrived in Kirkwall and took a room at the Hanged Man.  The pirate from the Pearl in Denerim had arrived in Drakonis and spent a lot of time chatting with Varric.  Alun had avoided Varric’s table for a week after her arrival, but Isabela had noticed him sitting alone each night and drinking himself to sleep.  He kept waiting for her to denounce him to the gathered drunks, but she had not.  One night, when he was slumped over his mug of ale, she had come to sit with him. 

“We all have our secrets,” she said, and smiled.  “Even dead men.”  Putting a finger under his chin, she pressed upward, until his eyes met hers.  Even with the scruffy beard and scar, he remained an attractive young man.  _Emphasis on the man.  This isn_ _’t a naïve boy anymore_.  “Bet you wouldn’t blush if I sat on your lap tonight.”

He stared back.  “Dead men don’t blush.”

She laughed.  “I suppose they don’t.  If you ever want some fun, no strings, I’m in the room across the hall from you.  Even dead men need some…distraction.”  She ran a finger along his scar.  “I’m sorry.  I liked her.  Sometimes…well, everyone needs a respite from mourning.”  She got up and returned to the bar, shouting for Corff to refill her cup before she joined Varric’s table.

He liked the group around Varric.  He could become friends with some, certainly Varric and Hawke, and he missed companionship, but, yet again, his entire past would be a secret from them, just at it had been at Dragon’s Peak, with the wardens, and at the start of his travels with Liam.  Lys had changed that, Lys and Kai and Zevran, who had known him and encouraged him to let the other companions know him too.  For almost a year during the Blight he could be Alistair, with nothing to hide.  Now, he had no life before emerging from the crate.  In twenty-one years he had spent less than one being himself, with no secrets.  That Alistair, the one with a lover, friends, a purpose, was the exception.  Alun, with no past and no future, was the rule.  He would not make the mistake of caring about friends or hoping for more again.  He would serve, earn his keep, but stay invisible.  He laughed to himself.   _Fortunately, I_ _’m a quiet drunk.  I won’t give away my own secrets._  

That night, after Isabela assured him of her discretion, he got up and joined Varric and his friends at their game of Wicked Grace. Rory and Bethany Hawke, who hoped their winnings would add to the funds they needed to join Bartrand Tethras’ expedition; Fenris; Merrill, a Dalish elf whose name rang a bell, but he did not recall why; Aveline, the guard with no nickname; and Isabela, who Varric called Rivaini.  Sometimes a Chantry brother friend of Hawke, called Sebastian, would sit in, but Alistair found him a bit too pious to befriend, as his nickname Choir-boy implied, despite his sympathy for the man’s murdered family.  Considering the nicknames, he decided his could be worse.  It didn’t reveal all that much and it didn’t refer to his templar abilities.  He did not want those skills brought to the attention of anyone in the Gallows. 

Fortunately, Templars from the Gallows did not frequent the Hanged Man.  So far, he had managed to avoid meeting Cullen Rutherford up close.  On his one visit to the Gallows with Hawke, the bareheaded templars wandering the courtyard had surprised him.  Searching the templars’ faces, he found his one-time friend standing near the base of the grand stairway and hurried over to the arms vendor to avoid detection.   He could not believe a man who served as Knight-Captain and second in command at the Gallows could be the man he had known at Dragon’s Peak or before the rebellion in the Fereldan Circle.  He recalled Cullen’s hatred of mages after Uldred had imprisoned and tortured him.  He could not trust the man in the Gallows as a friend.  Better he avoids him entirely.  

When he went to his room after cards and too much ale, he would sometimes notice the door across the hall standing open.  He felt tempted at times, but never succumbed.  He had gone to the _Blooming Rose_ soon after his arrival, but found he felt just as empty and alone afterwards and he still had to walk back to Lowtown, which was better done sober.  _Have to fight off bandits most nights.  Easier to drink the ale here and crawl up the steps just before I collapse on the tabletop._    Most nights his timing worked and he made it to his bed, but sometimes Norah, the waitress, would wake him up as the sun rose and chase him upstairs.

Looking over at Varric, still standing in the doorway, he hoped no one would disrupt his plan to remain invisible.  Given Varric’s wide ranging intelligence network, what he knew of Alun’s past at Soldier’s Peak, and whatever hints Isabela had dropped, Alistair was quite sure Varric suspected his identity, but he believed the dwarf would keep the secret.  Varric just could not resist letting Alistair know he knew, hence the nickname Grey.  Alistair grinned.  It put him in good company.  All Varric’s friends had nicknames…well, all except Rory Hawke and Aveline.

Sheathing his blades, he nodded at Varric.  “Let me wash up and I’ll join you.”  

**x==========x**

Hawke knocked on Alun’s door and heard him yell, “It’s open.” 

Entering, she surveyed the room, but did not see Alun.  An opening to one side led to what she assumed was a sleeping alcove, while the large main room had been set up as a training space.  Arms and armor hung from the wall or on stands.  At the far end, beneath windows set high on the wall, a workbench provided a spot to repair armor, fletch arrows, and sharpen weapons.   At one end, the long work table also held pots or ink and containers holding quills and brushes.  Against the alcove wall, next to that part of the workbench, stood a scrivener’s table, with its working surface angled up and facing towards the windows for maximum light.  Next to the table a lectern stood, just above the height of the work surface, to hold the book from which the scrivener copied.   A large candelabra provided another light source, rising from the floor between the scrivener’s table and the lectern.  A parchment, with a partially colored drawing lay on the work surface. Inspecting it, she realized it depicted her friends playing cards in the tavern below _.  He_ _’s quite good._   She laughed to herself.  _I could almost label each with their nickname, given how he_ _’s shown them here._ Fenris, or Broody, both glowered and looked petulant, while Sunshine, or Bethany, hid a smile, and Merrill, called Daisy, looked at Varric in confusion.

Walking towards the alcove, she saw, not a bed, but a large book case filled with books and figurines. Several maps hung on the walls.  _Not what I was expecting_.  She shook her head.  _Truly, I had no idea what to expect.  He_ _’s literate.  He draws.  Those maps are not cheap ones._   She walked over to the bookcase and reached out to touch a figurine. 

_“_ They were gifts to me when I was a child.”

Hawke jumped at Alun’s voice.  He sat on the end of a bed mending a tunic and watching her, an amused glint in his hazel eyes and the hint of a grin softening his features.

She picked up the carved figure.  “That’s King Maric?  And Queen Rowan?”

“Among others.  Queen Moira too.”

“Well either you really are a Fereldan or have some deeply twisted desire to be one.”

Alun snorted.  “Really Fereldan.  I’m glad you came by.  I wanted to talk to you, but I keep to myself, mostly-”

“-hadn’t noticed.”

“Mostly, but there are some things you should know if I’m to keep traveling with you.”  He waited, but Hawke said nothing.  “I trained as a templar when I was young.  Never took vows, but I still have the skills.  I can smite.  It comes in handy.”

“That’s what you did to the Winters’ mage the other day?”

“I did.  I’m not sure which is more effective, the smite or the surprise when it comes from someone not in templar armor.”

Rory chuckled.  “Did Bethany see?”

He nodded.  “I can channel it, so it won’t affect her unless she gets between me and the targeted mage.”

“Neat,” Hawke said.  “And Varric?  Does he know?”

“Varric helped me get here and got me the room.  He knows, but only because I told him.  There’s nothing all that mysterious about me.  I lost everyone I cared about in the Blight.  I wanted a fresh start away from Ferelden.”

“That simple?”

“Some things are.”

“You’re not a warden?”

“Not a warden or a templar.  Just a warrior.  I learned sword and shield with the templars, but more recently found I’m good with two blades.  Now seemed like a good time to change.  I’ve always been good with a bow.” 

“Did you fight at Ostagar?”

“As it happens,” he said, his eyebrow raised, “I did.  I’ve heard you and your brother did as well.  I’m sorry you lost him.”

Rory nodded.  “We should raise a glass tonight then,” she said.   “It’s been two years.”

“What?”  He looked up, puzzled.  Gradually his frown eased. “Ah, since Ostagar.  Seems like another life, or just yesterday.”

“Depends how much you’ve had to drink.”

Alun laughed.  “It does, at that.”

He got up and went past Hawke to a cask on the work table.  “I’ve been meaning to talk with you since we discussed me joining you on the expedition with Varric’s brother.  I have some coin.  If you want, I’ll put in fifteen sovereigns toward your part of the expedition.  It will make it happen more quickly.”

“Why?”  Hawke crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. 

“I like an investment just like the next person, but it will diminish your share, so I’ll understand if you-”

“-no, I accept.  I’m tired of indentures and just getting by.  I’d like to get this over with and get Bethany and Mother settled.  I have almost thirty sovereigns.  Your fifteen puts us close to the fifty we need.  A few more missions and we can talk to Bartrand.”  She held out her hand and Alun reached out and took it.  “I’m not sure why I trust you, but I do.  My gut.  Varric’s confidence in you.”  She shrugged.   “I did have a reason to visit you,” Hawke added.  “You know the clinic in Darktown?  Opened a month or so ago?”

“I give Lirene some coin to keep it going each week, but I’ve never visited the Darktown clinic.”

“I need to head down there to speak to one of the healers and bring Bethany back.”

Alun raised his eyebrows.

“She’s taken to helping.  She has some healing skills and knows plants and potions.  Can you come along?  Not fond of wandering there alone, not in mood to listen to Fenris complain about mages, and Varric’s busy.  The healers don’t come up to Lowtown very often, so Bethany sometimes spends the night, but I’d rather she come home…such as it is.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll join you downstairs.”

**x==========x**

Alun had been to Darktown a few times with Hawke, but had not had much time to look around, between attacks.  Most of the voices he heard sounded like home, but the conditions looked nothing like Ferelden, even during the Blight.  Every nook and cranny of the underground had its occupants.  Small groups had staked out their territory and, as he and Hawke strode by, hands dropped to daggers, while mothers retreated behind older boys and men with their smaller children.  Dressed in patched and mended garments, some tried to maintain a semblance of dignity, while others, dirty and in rags, could no longer maintain the pretense.  _You_ _’d think the Chantry might set up some aid stations, but I don’t see any signs of brothers or sisters. The clinic must seem Maker sent._

“Oh good.  The lamp’s lit.”  Rory glanced at Alistair.  “It means the healers are in.  They’re both…um…mages.  That won’t bother you?”

Smirking, Alun asked her if it wasn’t a little late to ask him that.  Hawke shrugged as she walked, saying if he didn’t mind Bethany she figured healers would be just fine too.  As they approached the entry, she suggested he wait outside until she could tell Anders who he was.

“Wait,” he stopped short.  “Anders?  The healer’s name is Anders?”

“You know him?” Rory said slowly.

“I know a healer named Anders. It’s not a common name.  Who’s the other healer?”

“Another mage.  Jowan-” she stopped, as Alun’s eyebrows raised over wide eyes.  “You know him too?”

Alun nodded.  “I’ll wait by the door.”  He stepped to one side and turned around after they entered.  He leaned against the door jamb, as Hawke continued across the room to where Jowan waved his hands over a body on a table, spreading healing magic across the torso.  Anders stood by the head, watching, but moved away as he saw Hawke approach.  Alistair could not see Bethany, but a screen hid the back part of the room.

“Thanks for coming, Hawke,” Anders said, surprised none of her usual companions stood with her.  “Did you come alone?  That’s dangerous.” 

“No, I brought a friend,” Rory said nodding towards the entrance.

Anders looked more carefully at the man leaning against the door frame and his jaw dropped, seeing the familiar silhouette. 

“He recognized you too.  I didn’t know-”

“-no reason you should,” Anders said, his voice low.  He smiled.  “Let me talk with him.  We’ll step outside.  Keep Jowan, here will you? And don’t mention Alun.  He…well, Alun being here will surprise him.  I need to work that out first.”

Walking up behind him, Anders reached out and put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Alun.”

Alistair did not turn around, but reached up and covered Anders hand with his own.  “Let’s go outside,” he said and moved through the doorway.  Heading down the stairs, he stopped by the flimsy railing overlooking water and cliffs.  Anders followed.

“We worried, when you disappeared.”

“Yeah, well,” Alistair shrugged.  “I…the Peak…it was all a pretense.  At least here most people have a story they don’t tell and just want to start over.  No questions.  Just, ‘what can you do?’  It works.  Here I’m just Alun.”  His brow furrowed, he stared at Anders.  “Just what are _you_ doing here?  And Jowan?”

“Ah, well therein lies a more complicated tale.”

Alistair snorted.  “Why does _that_ not surprise me?”  He looked around, trying not to grin.  Just having Anders here, someone who knew him, made him happy.  “Perhaps we should find a quiet place to talk.  I have rooms at the Hanged Man.  Why don’t you come back with Hawke, Bethany, and me?”

“Let me tell Jowan I’m leaving.  Wait here.”  He chuckled as he turned away.  “Hawke’s been trying to get me to that tavern all month.   She has a bet with Varric that I’ll come.”

Alistair grinned.   “I’ll have to ask Varric for a finder’s fee.”

Anders looked back again, snorting.  “Good to find you safe,” he said and went into the Clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	10. Return to the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:32 Dragon, Cloudreach: Alistair and Anders return to the Deep Roads with Bartrand's expedition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.
> 
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 10: Return to the Deep**

**9:32 Dragon, Cloudreach === Kirkwall**

Anders stopped just inside the entrance of the Hanged Man and began to laugh.  He looked at Alistair.  “ _You_ live here?”

“What?”  Alistair grinned. 

“Looks more like my kind of place,” Anders drawled. 

“Part of my disguise,” Alistair said as he wiggled his eyebrows.  “Scar, questionable lodgings, unusual companions, lots of bad ale and Wicked Grace, dual blades…always thinking ‘what would Zevran do?’” he shrugged.  “Seems to work.”

Anders smirk faded.  “It does, at that…Ser Alun.”

“Just Alun.  I’ve dropped the Ser.  Only raises questions of where I trained and who I served.  That worked at the Peak, but not so much here.”  He squeezed Anders on the shoulder.  “Let’s get started on some of Corff’s ale…after a few mugs you’ll forget how bad it is.”

The two found an empty corner table where they could talk without being overheard.  As they sat, Anders leaned over and whispered, “You’re leaving out one thing Zev would do.”

Alistair coughed into his ale.  “Yeah, well, I’ll leave that part to you.  I did spend a few evenings at the Blooming Rose.”  He smirked when Anders’ mouth dropped open.  “Just didn’t find much comfort or diversion.”

“Right, I’ll keep quiet…The Blooming Rose?  Really?” 

Seeing Anders and Alistair deep in discussion, Varric guided Fenris, Isabela and Merrill to another table where, for a change of pace, a raucous game of Diamond Back diverted them.  Neither Rory or Bethany Hawke joined them.  Anders guessed that Bethany, well-versed in plant lore and potion making through her father’s training, had drafted Rory to help when she arrived at the Clinic.  He assured Alistair that the two of them could be at the Clinic quite late, particularly if Jowan called on Bethany to assist with patients.

Alistair brought Anders up to date on his own story, from Zevran leaving, his discomfort at the Peak, and his trip to Kirkwall in the crate, to joining Varric, Hawke and their companions.  Surprising himself, he admitted he felt content here.  He had taken up sketching again, had his own room where he could practice his forms, read, write, or draw, and had acquaintances, if not friends, who provided good company and, he grinned, a source of income.  Anders laughed when Alistair noted Zevran’s lessons in how to play Wicked Grace and Diamond Back had, literally, paid off in winnings.  Alistair painted a picture of contentment, which Anders believed was sometimes true.  He had spent enough time alone and on the run to know moments of despair and frustration intruded.  He suspected Alistair retreated to this room of his during those times or found a sparring dummy to destroy.

Anders had a lengthier tale, beginning with the joyful news of Kieran’s birth and ending with Jowan’s disturbing merge with Justice.  Alistair had known about the Architect, the Mother, and had fought childer grubs and destroyed Broodmothers in Kal‘Hirol, but had not heard about the attacks in Amaranthine and the final mission to Drake’s Fall.  Anders completed the story, relating the wardens mission to Drake’s Fall in the Dragonbone Wastes where, after a great battle, they defeated and killed both Mother and Architect.  He explained that the Architect had tried to convince Liam to ally with him, even sending the Messenger to warn of the attack on Vigil’s Keep, but Liam would have none of it.  When the creature appeared as they made their way to the Mother’s lair, Liam attacked.  Somehow, the entire company survived that battle, but Colum and one of his Nevarrans died in the subsequent battle with the Mother and her minions.

At that news Alistair’s eyes had closed as his teeth clenched.  “Such a good man,” he said after a time.  “He-”

“-he died doing what he lived to do, destroy darkspawn.   He leaped up onto the Mother’s breasts to deliver the killing blow.”  Anders saw Alistair flinch at his words and realized it’s what Alistair had expected and, maybe still believed, should have happened in Denerim.

Undaunted Anders forged ahead.  “Colum,” he explained, “had been a warden for too long to benefit from the new Joining potion.  He saved us by sacrificing himself.”

“In death, Sacrifice,” Alistair murmured, staring into the clay mug he clasped.  He looked up at Anders.  “Was he feeling his Calling?”

Anders shrugged.  “Not sure, but he was what, fifty-something?  So perhaps.  The wardens in Ferelden and Nevarra will honor him.”

Continuing with happier recollections, Anders spoke of Nathaniel and Delilah’s reconstruction plans, of Liam and Morrigan’s reunion at Soldier’s Peak after the battles, and of what he knew of events in Highever and Denerim.  Alistair listened quietly for a time, but finally, suspecting Anders of avoiding another unpleasant tale, he interrupted, asking why Anders and Jowan had come to Kirkwall.   Anders had leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and said nothing for a long time.  Alistair sipped his ale, watching the mage’s face.  Finally, Anders opened his eyes.

“I mentioned the spirit we _acquired_ in the Black Marsh.”

Alistair nodded.  “A spirit of Justice, something like Wynne’s spirit of Faith?”

Anders let out a breath.  “Yes…and no.  Yes, it is a spirit locked out of the Fade and _inhabiting_ a person, but no it did not, at first, possess a live human body.”

“At first?”

Anders, taking a deep breath, began Jowan’s story with the final collapse of Kristoff’s corpse after the battle at Vigil’s Keep.  Justice had proposed a merger to Anders, but the mage had refused. 

“Maker knows I hate templars as much as any mage, but even more I want fair treatment.  I’ve seen Highever and how they treat mages there, I believe Nathaniel will continue those practices in Amaranthine and that the Regents will spread them to the rest of Ferelden.  For the first time in my life I have a small spark of hope.  Justice…its intensity frightened me.  With the spirit, it’s all right or wrong, black or white…I feared it would overwhelm me.”  He stopped and stared into his ale.  “Or that my anger would distort it.”

“Jowan didn’t?”

“You know Jowan.  Always feeling overlooked and undervalued, but blaming others for his shortcomings.  Clingy, needy, and lazy.  I never understood why he and Reina remained friends…but I digress,” Anders said, taking a deep breath before continuing.  “He never worked to develop his talents, and he does have talents, he just expected them to come forth, fully formed, when he cast.  He saw a shortcut to attaining the skills, the power, he wanted - blood magic - and he used it, ruining Reina’s life in the process when he forced her to join him.  Everyone believed she helped him and that she was a blood mage too, but I don’t.  He swears he forced her, but no one listens to him.  Liam’s not even sure and he knew Reina well.  She’s probably dead…or in Tevinter, if she went north.”

“The templars tracked her after they escaped?”

“Her phylactery was already in Denerim, so, yes, I assume they tracked her once they got it, but since it all happened just before Ostagar, getting the phylactery could have taken weeks.  Once the Circle fell and the Blight hit,” he shrugged,” who knows.   Maybe they forgot, or they may assume she’s dead.”  He stared, unfocused, across the room. “I never saw Liam lose his temper, but he did after he learned what Jowan had done with Justice.”  Seeing Alistair’s surprise, he added, “Oh, not in front of everyone.  Just me.  He took me to the room he used as an office in Amaranthine City and, well, interrogated me about how it happened.  He didn’t blame me, but he threw a pot of ink across the room.  He said the only good thing was Jowan only harmed himself this time.”

“How did it happen?”

“We’d been healing injured soldiers all day and I fell asleep.  Jowan went in to check on Kristoff/Justice and they merged.  He - Jowan - says he agreed, which,” Anders shrugged, “he probably did.  He probably planned it - waiting until I slept.  I’ve never seen Justice use mind control or any other such magic.”  He sighed.  “Although he probably could.”

“Wynne’s spirit possessed her, right?  How is this different?”

“It’s not.  Wynne, as annoying as she can be, is a person of faith.  She and her spirit of Faith work together.   Faith…umm…joined her to save Wynne’s life.  Faith enhances Wynne’s healing, and the Spirit has saved her life more than once.  Faith is a benefit and not at all scary, but it’s not something I’d mention to a templar.”

“No, but why is Jowan scary?  He wants Justice to help him improve treatment of mages, right?   To work for better rules, maybe more like those in Highever.  Is that bad?”  Alistair leaned back in his chair.

“Jowan won’t _work_ for anything… and Justice reacts with violence when he sees what he believes to be an injustice,” Anders said, hunched over and staring into his ale.  “It’s all black and white, no mercy, no consideration of why.”  He looked up at Alistair, who remained silent, but with eyebrows raised.  “Right.  Not always the most thoughtful person myself, but,” he shook his head side-to-side.  “They carry it too far.  Their _justice_ results in punishment, including death.”  Anders hands, lying folded around his cup, grasping the pottery vessel.  “I hate templars as much as any mage, but…. I don’t wish the death of every templar.  I’ll defend myself, but I won’t attack them simply for wearing the armor.  I’m not a murderer.”

“And Jowan is?”

“It’s why we’re here.  Maker, he…we were in Amaranthine City and we encountered a templar, called Rylock.  She led the search for Jowan and Reina after he fled the Ferelden Circle and continued to track him despite having no phylactery.  She arrived in Redcliffe after you all left with him, but learned he still lived and had become a warden.  The Order forbade her to take him, but she didn’t care that he was a warden.  With all the confusion in Amaranthine, after the Mother’s attack, she saw her chance.  I was a bonus.  Another mage to return to the Circle.”

“How did she trap you?”

“We’d heard rumors that Reina survived, first in Denerim and, later, from Nathaniel and Taina after they discovered the hidden fortress.  The women they rescued spoke of a white haired, female, elven mage.  Taking her from the Circle Tower was one thing Jowan honestly regrets.  He wanted to protect her, end any search. He convinced me to go with him to a warehouse where he said we could destroy all the phylacteries of Fereldan mages.”

Alistair eyes widened.

“Not so unrealistic and not a bad idea.  The Chantry moved the phylacteries there when they fled Denerim before the battle.  Only, by the time we arrived, they’d been moved back.  All we found were Rylock and half a dozen templars.”  Anders jaw clenched, and he grimaced.  “I barely threw a spell before they drained all my mana, but Jowan…or Justice, somehow, protected himself with a shield spell.   He had taken to carrying a staff with a wicked curved blade on one end.  How much the two have merged became quite clear as I watched Jowan, who had trouble focusing his magic with a staff, wield that blade.  Between his spells - mass paralysis, walking bomb, his repulsion glyphs - and Justice’s skill with that blade, they were all dead before I could caste a healing spell.  He left Rylock for last and didn’t just kill her.  He dismembered her.  We had to leave Ferelden after that.  We returned to our room, got our things and took the first galley out of the harbor.  It brought us here.”

“Liam doesn’t know where you are?”

“No, not exactly.  I left a note, saying I’d keep watching Jowan and try to stay safe, so he knows we’re alive and together.  I’ve sent a few messages through Varric, but just to say we’re safe.”

“So, we’re all fugitives?”  Alistair frowned.  “Should I worry when Jowan meets me?”

“Jowan…or Justice?  I don’t know.”  He stared into his mug for some time.  “Jowan knows you have templar skills, and he’s suspicious; he may think Liam sent you.”  He held up his hands.  “I know.  You came here before we did, but he…they, are not always rational.”  He frowned.  “One thing that might convince him - do you know there’s a mage underground?”

“There always is, but yes, I know.  Hawke’s done some favors, helped some mages fleeing from Starkhaven, and rescued an elf-blooded boy called Feynriel, and I’ve gone along.”

“That’s good.  Jowan’s very active-” he saw Alistair’s eyebrow rise.  “Me too.  If you help us-”

“-I’ll do what I can, but can I trust Jowan not to reveal who I am?”

“No, at least…maybe Jowan, but I can’t speak for Justice. Maybe I can convince him not to if you’re helping mages escape.” Anders fell silent for a time.  “Maybe you won’t have to meet him at all.  He and I work separately, to ensure the Clinic’s always open.  You can help me.  Worst case, we work at night.  In the dark, with your helmet on, he may not recognize you.”

They drained their mugs and signaled Norah for refills, which they downed in silence.  Standing, Alistair headed for the door and Anders followed.  “Look, I do this alone all the time.  You don’t have to escort me.”

“It’s dangerous for Hawke, but not for you?” 

“I can cast lightning.”

“And no one would notice that.”

Anders snickered and shrugged.

As it happened, no bandits attacked them as they made their way towards the entrance to Darktown and headed for the Clinic.  At the top of the stairs, just outside the door, Anders grabbed Alistair’s arm and held out his hand.  Alistair took it. 

“You always made good calls as Warden-Commander. We missed you…and Mel.”

Alistair did not smile.  “Yeah, me too,” he said.  “I missed all of you…and Mel.  Tell Hawke, if she’s still in there, that I’ll be at the bottom of the stairs.” 

Anders watched Alistair…no, Alun, walk away.  _He_ _’s hardened.  But then I guess he’s had to, here all alone._   _Maybe we can help each other._

 **x==========x**   

Alistair had added two high backed wooden chairs with arms and cushioned seats to his rooms.  Facing the small hearth in the sleeping alcove, where he had placed a table between them for keeping a mug, book, and candle close to hand, they offered an alternative to the bed for reading or conversation with a visitor.  After their first meeting in the tavern, Anders had taken to dropping by every few days.  He enjoyed being away from Jowan - and Justice – and Alistair enjoyed not having to guard every word.

Outside gray skies released torrents of rain, lightning and thunder.   Inside, Alistair and Anders ignored the weather, talked, and sipped bad ale and acceptable cheese and bread.  The small charcoal fire took away the damp chill that permeated the old concrete buildings in Kirkwall’s Lowtown.

Since their first meeting, Alistair had helped Anders with two mage escapes, although not in the way they had both initially envisioned.  Before Anders could ask for his assistance, Alistair had gone off as a guard for a small group of merchants heading to Tantervale.  When he returned he explained to Anders that, while he often worked with Hawke, he needed to support himself and served as a sword for hire, hence the trip.  He also mentioned his paying work as a scrivener and illustrator.

Anders had sat up, almost spilling his ale.  “You can create documents?”

“If they’re not too complex.  Ah, I see.  Passes and such for the mages.  I’m not a forger, but I can write standard Chantry script or copy from an original.  You’d have to provide the verbiage and appropriate parchment, ribbons, wax, and seals.”

Anders grinned.  “I remember you drawing.  You’re good.  If your documents are that good, it will get mages past most scrutiny.”  He rubbed his chin.  “Jowan won’t have to see you either.”

During the next month Alistair had created passes for several mages.  He had to trust Anders’ promise that the mages would survive as apostates and not be tempted into blood magic or possession.  Given the rumors from the Gallows about increasing numbers of Tranquil and Anders’ own tale about his friend Karl, it seemed a worthy undertaking.  Anders said he tried to send the mages to Ferelden, Markham or Nevarra, where, with the passes Alistair created, they might rejoin a Circle or find other duties in more tolerant cities.  A few insisted on heading north to Tevinter, but he encouraged the other destinations.  One he had sent to Liam as a warden candidate - Varric had helped smuggle him into Soldier’s Peak.  Alistair had laughed, thinking he probably did it the same way he had smuggled himself out. 

 **x==========x**

Some weeks after Alistair’s return from Tantervale, Hawke had taken her fifty sovereigns to Bartrand and arranged to join the dwarf’s expedition.  Alistair and Anders had agreed to join her, but they did not know who else Hawke might bring along.  On this day, Alistair and Anders’ conversation revolved around the upcoming Expedition. 

“Aveline’s too busy training for her new duties as Guard Captain,” Anders said, bemoaning the fact that the Fereldan would no longer join them on the Expedition.

Aveline, with Hawke’s help, had discovered her former Captain’s crimes, which had endangered the lives of his own Guards, and reported them to Viscount Dumar.  He had rewarded Aveline with the Captain’s job.  Aveline valued leading the Guard over the gamble that the Expedition would result in great wealth. 

“So, Fenris?”

“Yeah.” Anders said.  “I argued that we only needed one warrior, but Rory wants two.  I’m not backing out now, but we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.  I’m sick of his whining.”

“Whining? Seriously?  He had lyrium incised into his flesh, Anders.  He has Tevinters hunting him.  I know he has nothing good to say to you, but he’s not exactly suffering from a pinprick.”

Shifting in his chair, Anders muttered something about Alistair always giving people the benefit of the doubt.  He looked at his companion.  “I know, that includes me and, especially, Jowan, but I don’t want to listen to his remarks.”

“That I can understand, although you give as good as you get.”

Anders smirked.  “I do, don’t I.”

“I’m selfishly glad you’re going, although,” he frowned, “not looking forward to you and Fenris arguing.”

“Right, because then I can be the one to sense darkspawn, not you.  And don’t worry about the snarky remarks.  Hawke’s told both of us to back off.”  He looked at Alistair and smiled as he changed the subject.  “You can still sense them even though you took the Blight pills, right?  How have you given darkspawn warnings up to now?”

Laughing, Alistair said, “Nicely done.  Hope you can distract Fenris that easily.”  Then, answering the question, he said, “Not as well as I used to, but yes.  It seems some things stay with you.  Fiona can still sense them too.  I say I hear them, or smell them…or see signs and suggest we go carefully.  I’ve let them know I fought darkspawn in Ferelden, so I have experience they don’t.  Since I’m always right, Hawke believes me, but I think she wonders and Varric…well he calls me Grey for a reason.  He knows I came from Soldier’s Peak.  He might think I’m a runaway warden.  Neither say anything though, so I leave it at that.  With you there…I can keep quiet about darkspawn.  And you’re good company.  I don’t have to hide with you.”

“Happy to be of service.  I know what hiding yourself feels like.  It’s nice when you don’t have to.”  Anders stared at the fire.  “What about Isabela?”

“I have no idea.  _She_ knows who I am and let me know that soon after she arrived here, but she’s never said a word that I know of.  She has her own worries after losing her ship and seeking some treasure she failed to deliver as promised.  Unless I’m worth something to her, I don’t think she’ll say anything.”  Alistair’s eyes narrowed as he watched Anders expression soften.  _He_ _’s smiling like he found Ser Pounce-a-Lot._

Anders had told Alistair the story of the cat Liam had given to him.  He had left him behind at the Vigil in Taina’s care when he flew to Amaranthine to join Liam.  Losing the cat was one of many things Anders held against Jowan.  He had told Alistair that Colum hated it when he took Pounce with me on a mission, but he never made the mage get rid of him.He looked up realizing Alistair had gone quiet.

“Have you...?”

“A gentleman never tells,” Anders said. 

“A gentleman never does.  So, have you?”

Anders laughed.  “A few times.  As Isabela says, no strings.  She enjoys lightning-”

“-all right, all right, too much,” Alistair said, his hands going over his ears. 

“You asked.  You may see some flashes in the Deep Roads if she’s along.”

Alistair’s laughter sounded more like a groan.

Anders peered at him.  “And you’re not blushing.”

“Not completely at ease, but no, no blushing.”

“Speaking of blushing-”

“I haven’t been back.  I just don’t… they’re not…I-”

“They’re not Mel.”

“No, they’re not.”

“I can’t say I understand. I’ve had strong feelings for someone and been faithful for the time we were together, but I’ve always wanted sex, even when I was mourning.”

Alistair shrugged.   “Zev said the same.  I don’t.  At least not now; maybe someday?  I don’t know.”

“You believed in forever.  That you could be with her forever, didn’t you?”

“Is that wrong?  You sound like you’re accusing me of a crime.”

“No.  No, it’s just not something I ever thought about.  I always expected I would lose anyone I loved.  Either I would leave or be sent away or they would.  I guess I believe in taking comfort where it’s offered.”

Staring into the fire for a long time, Alistair finally nodded.   “I either hoped we could be together, or I knew I could never be with anyone--”  He stopped when he saw Anders puzzlement and explained.  “As a templar or warden, I didn’t think I could marry or be serious with anyone.  But I thought she would always be there - alive in the world.  Her dying…I never expected that.”  He sniffed.  “I know, we risked death every day, but…I didn’t think she would.”  He looked at Anders and shook his head.  “Silly of me, but I still think I’ll see her in a crowd or….”  He stopped.  “Very different points of view.”

**9:32 Dragon, Bloomingtide === In the Deep Roads**

“Ah, the faint stench of darkspawn, the glow of lichen, side tunnels, cave ins, and the heat of flowing lava.  How I missed them!  All we need are spiders, nugs, and brontos to complete the picture,” Anders said, as the faint light from the Deep Road entrance faded behind them. 

Rory Hawke, and Fenris each gave Anders their version of a sidelong glare and Varric snorted, but Alistair laughed.  “Careful what you wish for, Anders, although I’ll be a happy man if all we meet are nugs, spiders and brontos.” 

“Good point,” Anders conceded, as he and Alistair led the way onward. 

The companions exchanged puzzled looks before marching along in single file behind the two men, through the narrow path descending deeper into the earth below the Free Marches.

The full party had entered the Roads early that morning, with Bartrand’s mercenaries leading, and Bartrand, his dwarves, and Bodahn and Sandal following.  Anders had seen Bodahn looking at Alun, eyes narrowed, and spoken with the merchant, joking that Alun looked a lot like the dead Warden-Commander.  Bodahn had gone along, but Anders feared the clever dwarf had doubts.  While in the Deep Roads they had more things to worry about than a Alun’s appearance.   Deciding how to react to Bodahn could wait until the Expedition returned to Kirkwall.

Varric’s group, led by Hawke, brought up the rear.  As Anders had guessed, Aveline had declined Hawke’s request; she had not asked Merrill, and Rory had left Bethany behind to placate Leandra, their mother, and help Jowan in the Clinic, where she could feel useful and keep out of sight.  Aveline and Isabela had promised to check on her and make sure she had company when she made the trip between the Clinic and Lowtown.

While neither Jowan nor Bethany specialized in healing, Anders believed they could handle most illnesses and injuries with their limited skills and Bethany’s potions.  Anders hoped Bethany’s common sense would restrain Jowan’s impulsiveness, too often encouraged by Justice’s outrage when it came to mage rescues.  He did not want to return to find the two of them in the Gallows or, worse, made Tranquil.  He hoped Jowan’s nearly craven cautiousness would deter any foolishness and offset Justice’s bravery.  Both he and Alistair had spoken to Bethany, encouraging her to postpone any rescues until their return.

The entrance to the Deep Roads Bartrand selected had been through a cave several days journey outside of Kirkwall.  A small side tunnel, easily missed in the dark by wanders with no map, finally widened into a broad, high ceilinged Deep Roads passage.  As they entered the spacious, paved roadway, with a lava stream flowing along beside it to provide light and heat, they found Bartrand’s group gazing in wonder, as Bartrand yelled at them to get moving.  Instead, Varric, Hawke and the others also stopped to stare.  Anders and Alistair looked at each other, smirking.

“Do you remember your first time?” Anders asked.

“In the Roads or fighting ‘spawn?  Or were you changing the subject?”

Anders chuckled.  “Either would make a good story I suspect.”

“First time with ‘spawn was on the surface, near the Wilds when I traveled to Ostagar with Duncan and three other warden recruits.  First time in the Roads…Orzammar.  Haven wasn’t really the Deep Roads, although I think some of those caves were dwarven.”  He looked at Anders.  “You haven’t been to Orzammar, have you?”

The mage shook his head, no.

“Pretty amazing.  We spent weeks in the Deep Roads chasing down Oghren’s wife, Branka.  Saw the Archdemon for the first time and fought a Broodmother.”  He looked at the passage disappearing into the darkness ahead, held up by massive columns and dimly lit by the lava flow.  “Saw more Broodmothers in Kal’Hirol.  That’s one thing I’d rather not find on this adventure.”

“Maker’s Knuckles, me either!” Anders said.  “The Mother was enough for me.  Right now, I don’t sense any ‘spawn.”

“The Thaw can last years,” Alistair replied.  “It takes them time to repopulate.  We can hope this thaig has no darkspawn.”

“Right.  And when we return to the surface all the mages will walk free.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

“Just sayin’.”  Anders shrugged. 

Bartrand’s shouting finally convinced the mercenaries to move forward; the dwarves, who would help with digging, transporting the finds, and stone sense, fell in behind.  Varric let them get ahead and then waved his companions on into the darkness.

**x==========x**

Bartrand had estimated that the trip through the Deep Roads to the ancient thaig would take a week, but with cave ins to work around and narrow side tunnels to navigate, a week went by and the thaig remained some distance ahead.  Arriving in camp at what passed for evening in the permanent darkness of the Roads, they found Bartrand shouting and agitated, claiming everyone had failed him.  Ahead, they learned, they faced an impassable barrier.  The bridge over a lava flow had collapsed and Bartrand’s scouts had found no alternate path.  Sighing, Varric conferred with Rory, Anders, Fenris, and the man he knew as Alun. 

“If there’s a side path we’ll find it,” Varric finally said to Bartrand.  “You all stay here, wait, and keep watch.  Anders senses some darkspawn in the area.”

After assuring Bodahn they would look for Sandal, who had wandered off, Rory, Varric, Anders, Fenris, and Alun set off. 

Exchanging a look with Alun after their conversation with Bodahn, Anders chuckled softly.  “I wonder if we should worry more about Sandal or the darkspawn?”

“That boy has some strange powers,” Alun agreed, recalling him in Fort Drakon calmly standing amidst a lot of dead darkspawn, “but, Bodahn’s right, he may just be lost.”


	11. BARTRAND!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:32 Dragon, Justinian === In the Deep Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world. This chapter contains dialog from Dragon Age II.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 11: BARTRAND!**

**9:32 Dragon, Justinian === In the Deep Roads**

As Alun and Anders had surmised, the darkspawn had fared far worse than Sandal.  A rune which went B _oom_ , according to young dwarf, provided the blow that left a pile of darkspawn at his feet; but even Anders could not explain the ogre, frozen in mid leap, in the middle of their path, nor could Sandal’s cryptic explanation, _not enchantment_.  Shooing Sandal back to his father, the group continued on to find an alternate passage through to their destination.

To Alun’s relief, the stone golems did not come to life as they passed, but more darkspawn appeared.  That all Hawke’s companions had agreed to take the little pill that had worked so well for his friends during the Blight, alleviated Alun’s concerns for them as they fought their way through the hurlocks and genlocks.  Hawke, Varric and Fenris had the skills to defeat the attack, but no one could fight darkspawn and remain unscathed.  He had his own stash and Anders had arrived from Amaranthine City with more, taken from Liam’s supply.  They might use them up on this mission, but Alun guessed Anders could get more from Liam, if he asked.  Soldier’s Peak had continued to order supplies through Varric, enabling secret communications between Anders and Liam.

In truth, Alun did not know how well Anders would fare in a fight.  He and Anders had not traveled together that often during the Blight.  Anders had stayed in the North with Nate, Pippa and the Nevarran wardens, where he learned to fight and to focus his magic, healing and rejuvenating when needed, and keeping clear of the soldiers when casting elemental spells.  When joining Rory Hawke’s companions, Alun had noticed that, on occasion, some frost would form on Fenris’ cauldron or gauntlet, earning the mage a glare from the elf.  Fenris did move quickly for a two-handed warrior, but no more quickly or unpredictably than he or Rory did, so Alun had to wonder at the close calls.  He knew there was no love lost between the mage and the elf.

_And if I_ _’m not more careful, or Hawke and I don’t talk, there’ll be no love lost between me and her._ On the surface, Alun had deferred to Hawke’s leadership, but here, in the Deep Roads, _he_ had taken charge without thinking when they met their first darkspawn.  Darkspawn.  Deep Roads.  Grey Warden.  It had been automatic, and the others had obeyed, but Hawke had scowled at him afterwards.  As the group stood near the precipice overlooking the lava river, he tapped Rory on the shoulder.

“Can we talk?”

“About you taking over the lead?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “yeah.  Sorry, it just came naturally.”

“Naturally?”

“Look, I’ve been in the Deep Roads and not just a quick peek.  I spent weeks in the Roads on a mission with some Grey Wardens out of Orzammar.  We fought darkspawn with the Legion of the Dead, killed a broodmother, battled golems, and defeated deepstalkers, spiders, spirits and anything else the Roads could produce.  It’s what I know how to do.  On the surface, you know as much as I, but down here, I’m the expert.”

“So, _you_ want to lead?”  Rory’s voice had an edge to it.

“I want to keep us all alive.  I know how to fight whatever the Deep Roads have to throw at us.”

Varric’s voice cut in.  “Grey has a point, Hawke.  He’s more experienced than any of us, even Blondie.”

Rory turned to look at Anders, who had clearly also heard the conversation.  He nodded in confirmation.  “Down here, he’s forgotten more than we’ll ever know.”

“But you’re not a warden.”  Rory’s clenched jaw made her chin stick out.  “Yet you make it sound like you were in charge.  Why would wardens let a civilian lead?” 

“I am not a warden.  I take the same Blight pills you do, to prevent Blight sickness.  Wardens use civilians during a Blight.”  He sighed.  “Look, I’ll go along with whatever you decide, but I can’t promise not to yell commands if I think I know better in any given situation.  I have the experience.  I just want us all to get out of this alive.”

Rory stared at the ground and dug her boot toe into a rubble pile. _He didn_ _’t answer my question. Weeks in the Deep Roads, even if he didn’t lead, does give him more experience than I have.  Or Anders, apparently._ Finally, she looked up.  “You’re it, Alun, for as long as we’re down here.”

Alun grinned.  “Agreed and, for the record, I’m happy to explain my orders or confer if we have the time.”  He held out his arm and Rory grasped it.  Neither saw the look of relief that passed between Anders, Varric and Fenris. 

“How do we proceed, then?” Hawke asked.

“I’ll lead with Varric, Anders will stay in the middle and you and Fenris will bring up the rear.  Anders can sense darkspawn in any direction, but he’s the most vulnerable to attack.”  Alun gave Fenris a stern look.  “He’s our healer, but he can also do damage.  We need him along.”  He turned to Anders.  “But, you don’t need to cast quite so close to any of us.  Am I clear?”

Lips pressed into a line, Anders nodded.  Rory, her mouth quirking up, looked between the two men.  _Seems our Alun knows more than just darkspawn fighting tactics.  This may work out._   Speaking up, Rory said, “Alun’s right, you two.  Save your quarrels for the surface.”

Alun turned and strode off with Varric jogging along beside him, and the others fell into formation behind him, as he entered yet another crudely carved side tunnel. 

**x==========x**

“Andraste’s Knickers,” Anders muttered, “what else will these ruins throw at us?”

“Well, the golems didn’t activate, and we haven’t seen any shrieks, brontos, spiders, nugs, or deepstalkers,” Alun replied.

“Right…and no dragons,” Anders smiled.

“I’d settle for a nug right now,” Varric muttered, “roasting over a nice fire, preferably on the surface.”

“You eat nug?”  Rory asked.

“Pretty tasty,” Alun said.  _But don_ _’t tell Leliana I said that._ When he heard Anders chuckle he wondered if he’d spoken aloud.

“Didn’t Leliana have a pet nug?”  Anders asked, smirking.

“She did,” Alun confirmed.  “And she did not approve of eating them, but, she wasn’t in the Roads with us.  I’ll take nug over deepstalker any day.”

“Deepstalker?  You _ate_ deepstalker?”  Varric’s eyebrows arched. 

“After weeks in the Roads…yeah.”

“Let’s hope we find this thaig and get out before we need to eat either,” Fenris growled.

“Agreed,” Varric growled.  “I hate the Deep Roads.”

“But you’re a dwarf,” Anders said.

“A dwarf born on the surface with no memory of or ties to Orzammar or any other thaig.  Not like Bartrand, who’s always bemoaning our lost heritage.”

They turned into another passage which opened into a larger space at its end.  A shadow formed on the floor ahead of them.

“Shit,” Alun said.  “You had to mention we hadn’t seen a dragon didn’t you Anders?”

“Is that-”

The shadow materialized into a dragon before Anders could reply.

“Spread out and surround it, but keep away from its mouth,” Alun yelled.  “Try to avoid its feet and tail, but definitely stay away from those jaws and teeth.  Either go for its legs, or shred its wings.  We want it disabled so we can kill it.  Anders-”

“-I know, immobilize it.  I’ve fought a dragon before and it was bigger.”

“It’s always bigger,” Varric quipped aiming Bianca.  “Right, Hawke.  The one in the Bone Pit must have been twice that size.”

Rory sped to the rear, dancing around the tail, while Alun and Fenris attacked opposite sides of the beast, going for the forelegs.  Before they could disable it, a score of dragonlings ambled out of some hideaway and began to attack the archer and the mage.  Leaving Fenris and Rory to continue attacking the dragon, Alun hurried to take on the dragonlings with Anders’ help.  Varric moved away from them once the dragonlings turned to attack the warrior and mage, and began to alternate shots between the dragon and its young.  As he aimed toward the dragon, a dragonling leaped toward him, but fell at his feet, frozen, before it could do him any harm.  He nodded towards Anders and then continued shooting.  Alun, standing in a glyph that paralyzed anything that approached him, his two blades swirling through the air, soon defeated the other dragonlings. 

Alun, Varric, and Anders returned to attacking the dragon, which had flown to another corner of the large room.  Fenris had shredded one wing as the dragon landed, preventing further flight.  Anders and Varric inched forward, casting and shooting, as Alun raced to attack the dragon’s left foreleg.  Stabbing with one blade and slashing with the other, he succeeded in shredding the muscle and the leg collapsed, but the head, on its long neck, swooped down towards him.  Just in time, he rolled out of its reach.  As Fenris struck the right foreleg with a mighty blow, causing it, too, to collapse, he heard Alun shout, “ _Not again, you bloody beast_.” 

Unable to fly, the dragon stumbled along the floor, pushing its bulk forward using only its powerful hind legs.  With full use of its tail, neck and jaws, it remained a challenge to the companions.  Varric, whispering encouragement to Bianca, took aim at the head and, this time, the quarrel flew true and penetrated an eye.  The great head fell to floor, jaw snapping, as Fenris and Alun drew near.  Fenris stepped forward and buried his long blade in the dragon’s skull. 

“That’s it?” Hawke asked.

“Seems like it,” Alun agreed.  “No more dragonlings arriving.”

“What did you mean, not again?” Fenris asked.

“I…um…I fought a high dragon once.  I almost ended up as its dinner.  Bigger than this one…lots bigger, but I somehow survived thanks to our healer.”  He saw Hawke, Fenris, and Varric look at Anders.  “No, not Anders, another healer.  Anders and I didn’t always travel with the same companions during the Blight.”

“I sense a story, Grey.”

“You’ll have to make it up, Varric.  Beyond saying it did not happen in Denerim, I’m finished talking.”

“So, the Archdemon didn’t almost eat you?” Hawke said.

“Sorry, no.  Varric will have to look elsewhere for that tale.”  He wiped his blades and looked around the room.  “We should take the dragon scales.  They make good armor.  Wouldn’t hurt to eat and rest either. This is as good a spot as we’ve found. We’ll each take watch.”  He looked at Rory and she nodded agreement.

Fenris, Alun and Hawk began harvesting the scales while Anders started a small fire and Varric began to heat water.  Dried mushrooms and beans, salted meat and a few spices would make an edible stew, given Varric’s skills.   Anders kept the fire going, sliced up the bread and cheese, and made tea.  Fenris sometimes took a turn at cooking, but their companions refused to let Rory or Alistair do anything but eat.   By the time the dragon scales had been spread out to dry, the aroma from the stew had made them all hungrier.  They pulled their bowls and spoons from their packs and Varric served. 

“Good thing you insisted we keep our packs, Grey,” Varric said.

“Always keep you pack,” Alun replied. 

Fenris nodded.  “You never know when you’re going to have to run.  Best to have your weapon, coin, and food at all times.”

“True,” Hawke said.  “We learned that the hard way when we ran from Lothering.  Had too much to carry and had to drop it when we fought darkspawn.  Lost food and coin that way.”

Rory had wondered how they would track the watch without stars to guide them, until Alun pulled a small sand glass from his pack and handed it to her.  “Right,” she said, “experience.  I get it.”

“Two turns should be a full watch,” Alun said.

“I’ll start alone,” she offered, “for one turn.  Then Fenris can join me for the second half of my watch.  We’ll continue that way with Varric, Anders and finally you.  You’ll be on your own for that last turn.  Will that work?”

“It will.”

Pushing forward after a short rest, the five companions found themselves on the original path shown on the map.

“Let’s get back to Bartrand and let him know we found a way through,” Varric said.  “That should make him happy.”

“Does anything make your brother happy?” Fenris asked.

“No, Broody.  That was sarcasm.”

Anders snorted.

As Varric expected, Bartrand only asked what had taken them so long and offered no thanks.   When Bartrand immediately ordered his mercenaries to strike camp Varric objected, telling him he could either let them get some food and rest or Bartrand could venture off on his own.  Cursing the Stone and anything else he could name, Bartrand had backed down.  Rory, Alun and Fenris had eaten quickly and curled up in their bedrolls, but Anders had remained by the small fire.  Varric settled on a convenient flat stone next to him. 

“So, you and Grey did travel together during the Blight?” he asked Anders.

“We did.  The Warden Commander recruited me into the Grey Wardens from the Fereldan Circle Tower after Uldred’s mage revolt.”

“Which you spent in a cell in the dungeons.”

“Right.”

“Where did you go from there, Blondie?”

“Lake Calenhad Docks, where we split up again,” Anders said, thinking quickly to decide how much to tell the overly curious dwarf.  “A group of us went to meet some Nevarran Wardens who had arrived in secret on an island just west of the Storm Coast, since the Regent, Loghain, had forbidden any foreign wardens from entering Ferelden.  The Nevarrans initiated me into the wardens and I spent most of the rest of the Blight with them.  We went with Fergus Cousland and Nathaniel Howe, who had set up a refugee camp on the Storm Coast, to recapture their ancestral lands in Highever and Amaranthine.  We all rejoined the Ferelden wardens in Denerim just before the final battle.”

“And Grey?”  Varric tried to look only slightly interested.

“Alun traveled with the Fereldan wardens and their companions.”

“After you met the Nevarrans?”

“He didn’t stay with us for long.  He and a few others went off to meet some Dalish and then returned to the Fereldan wardens, who had traveled south from the Docks.  He went to Orzammar after that.  I went to Highever.”  Anders frowned.  “What are you trying to find out, Varric?”

Varric shrugged, eyes wide to feign innocence.  “Nothing.  Just curious about the story, Blondie.”

Anders stood.  “I’m going to sleep.  Ask Alun if you want his story.”

A few hours later Bartrand’s yelling and the noises from striking camp woke Hawke’s group.  Bodahn came over with hot tea and warm porridge, which they wolfed down before stowing their own gear in their packs.  Somewhat refreshed, they set off towards the Primeval Thaig, leading Bodahn, Sandal, Bartrand, and his dwarves and mercenaries. 

**x==========x**

Once around the collapsed bridge, the path led ever downward.  They passed the dragon they had killed and retrieved the scales they had left behind, stowing them in Bodahn’s cart.   Except for a few deepstalkers, which were easily dispatched, they met no opposition, not even any sign of darkspawn.  Alun and Anders thought that the ‘spawn had not penetrated this deep for some reason and everyone welcomed the easy travel.  The two Fereldans did wonder if something worse lay below which discouraged even darkspawn from the depths, but sensed nothing and decided not to worry.    

As they approached the area where the Bartrand expected to find the Ancient Thaig, what looked like red vines began to creep up the pillars and walls, and hang like stalactites from the ceiling. 

“Is that lyrium?” Varric asked, looking at Anders.

“It’s red,” Alun said, “but it looks like the blue lyrium veins we saw in the Deep Roads under the Frostbacks.”  He too looked at Anders.

“It feels like lyrium, but wrong somehow,” Anders said.  “I wouldn’t take a vial made from that stuff, no matter how low my mana fell.”

When they reached a broad, flat area, Bartrand ordered his hirelings to set up camp.  More lyrium, red lyrium, glowed in clumps on the ground and in veins running through the walls.  Leaving Bartrand to supervise the dwarves, mercenaries, and Bodahn, and Sandal as they set up camp, the five companions set off to explore.

Starting down a narrow pathway, leading out of their camp, Varric peered ahead.  “Whatever’s through there looks like it’s still intact.”  He looked at the others.  “Think we’ll find something?”

“Bartrand is far more enthralled with place than you are,” Hawke said.

“Unlike him,” Varric replied, “I wasn’t born in Orzammar.  I wouldn’t be down here if there wasn’t profit in it.  This entire place gives me the chills.  Let’s hope it’s worth it.”

“I’ll second that,” Alun said.  “This is unlike any Deep Road passage I’ve seen. And not just because of the red lyrium.  Whatever we find may not be very pleasant.”

“Its old,” Varric said, almost whispering.  “Even I can feel how ancient these stones are, and I don’t like it, but I suppose we’ll have to go down there to find out.”

Edging along a path between walls glowing red with lyrium deposits, Alun shifted his pack and wondered if he should have just left it at the campsite. All five of them had left the site quickly, keeping their packs, to avoid Bartrand’s shouts and the confusion of set up.  Only Bodahn and Sandal had set up their camp quickly, pulling their tent from their cart hauled by a biddable bronto.  Varric had stopped to refill his potions belt and the others had followed suit. 

As they moved forward, the path curved and descended a flight of stairs to a landing.  Suddenly, numerous fade spirits materialized, attacking from either side.  Quickly moving back, Anders began to cast, freezing a pair near Alun, who quickly shattered them with his main blade, while stabbing at an unfrozen one near his off hand.  Fenris, holding his long blade parallel to the ground, swept through three more spirits, bisecting them.  Rory took on two more as they tried to move towards Varric and Anders.  A bolt took one of those and Rory killed the other.  Silence returned to the passage as the five companions looked at each other and the depths beyond. 

“They’re not darkspawn, right?” Fenris asked.

“Fade spirits or shades,” Anders said.  “Grey Wardens can’t sense spirits, unfortunately.”

Alun crept to the top of the next flight of stairs, which led to a wider, better lit space.  He nodded, and the others followed as he slowly moved down the steps.  A door blocked the passage ahead.  Alun motioned for the others to form an arc around him in their battle stances.  Seeing each ready, blades raised, Bianca loaded, and frost swirling above Ander’s palms, Alun opened the door. 

“What,” Varric complained, “that’s it?  Another hallway and another door.”

“Let’s be careful at the next door too.  Darkspawn aren’t the only danger down here,” Alun said, peering at the path ahead.

The others gazed around them and then followed him towards the next door.  Pushing it open, Rory saw more steps rising from the broad, empty room behind the door.  No spirits manifested as they entered.  Looking up, they saw what looked like an altar.

“Do dwarves worship a god?” Rory asked.  “I thought they just venerated their Paragons and the Stone itself.”

“These dwarves, or whoever lived here, may have had different practices,” Varric said, following Rory up the steps to the altar where they both stopped, eyes wide.  The others stumbled to a sudden halt behind them.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?” Varric asked, an excited undertone to his voice.

“An idol?” Rory asked, studying the statue.  “Is it made of red lyrium?”  She reached for it, but Varric took it first.

“This is what we came for,” he said, jubilant. 

Alun looked at the dwarf, a slight frown creasing his forehead at the dwarf’s sudden excitement.  Anders turned as movement at the doorway caught his attention.  He saw Bartrand enter.

Stepping to the top of the stairs, Varric held up the idol.  “Look at this, Bartrand. An idol, made from pure lyrium, I think.  Could be worth a fortune.”

Bartrand whistled.  “You could be right,” the older dwarf mused.  “Excellent find.”

As he tossed the idol to Bartrand, Varric suggested they look around to see if any more valuable relics could be found further in.  Bartrand caught the lyrium relic, muttering _you do that_ as he left, closing the door behind him.

“The door!” Hawke yelled and raced down the stairs too late to catch the door before it latched. 

“Bartrand,” Varric called, catching up to Hawke. “The door.  It shut behind you.’

Outside, Bartrand laughed.  “You always did notice everything, Varric.”

“You’re joking,” Varric said, his voice rising.  “You’re going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?”

“It’s not just the idol.  The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune and I’m not splitting that three ways,” Bartrand snarled.  “Sorry, _Brother_.”

“Bartrand.  **BARTRAND!** ”  Varric stared at the closed door, hands clenched at his sides, but it did not open.  “I swear I will find that sorry son-of-a-bitch - sorry mother - and I will kill him!”

“There’s got to be another way out of here,” Alun said from the top of the stairs.  “There’s a door beyond the altar up here.”

Passing through the door at the back of the chamber, the companions entered a strange world of dwarven passages lit by the red lyrium veins and clusters.  High ceilings, supported by carved square columns laced with lyrium veins, cut through the depths.  As they walked past lyrium nodules, more fade spirits materialized, pouring out of side chambers, and golems activated, causing the companions to move forward cautiously, blades drawn, and bolts loaded, after defeating each attack.  Odd humanoid shaped rock figures joined the shades and golems in subsequent attacks.

“Should we be grateful those things don’t all attack at once?” Varric muttered.

“We should,” Hawke said.  “We can handle a dozen, but more…we might be in trouble.”

The group, led by Alun with Anders in the center and Rory, Varric, and Fenris in the rear, moved forward carefully.  The passage widened, and the group spread out in an arc behind Alun, eyes widening as they tried to comprehend the vast space opening around and above them.  Before they could appreciate the strange beauty of the cavern, more rock creatures attacked.  Two cast spells, while the others fought.   Alun attacked one of the rock casters, while Anders and Varric focused their attacks on the other.  Rory and Fenris took on the other creatures.  Once more, they managed to defeat the dozen or so attackers.   

“What are these things?” Varric asked, sounding both curious and exasperated.  “They seem like rock wraiths, but….”

Another _rock wraith_ assembled itself from a pile of boulders rising to twice Alun’s height.  Unlike the smaller wraiths, it spoke.

“They hunger.  The Profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know.”

“They feed on the lyrium?” Rory asked. 

The demon did not answer, directly.  “I am not as they are.  I am a… _visitor_.”

“It’s a hunger demon,” Anders snapped.  “It doesn’t feed on Lyrium, it feeds on the – what did it call them? – the Profane’s hunger.”

Ignoring Anders, the demon continued.  “I would not see my feast end.”  The demon, in its wraith’s form, leaned towards the companions.  “I sense your desire.  You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so.”

“Why?” said Alun, waving away the objections both Anders and Fenris began to voice. 

“There is another door that leads to the paths far above us.  That is what you seek.  It has been sealed, however, and cannot be opened without a key.  I know where the key is.  Do as I ask, and I shall tell you.”

“We have all the information it can give,” Alun said, drawing his blades.  “Now we fight!”

“Most unwise,” the demon sneered.

The companions fell on the demon with blades, bolts, and frost, defeating it with surprising ease.  They searched the room for the key the demon had promised, but found nothing but another door at the top of a flight of stairs.  Expecting it to be locked, they cheered softly when the handle turned, and it clicked open, only to find another rough walled corridor filled with Profane.  Fighting their way through, they climbed more stairs and found themselves in a larger cavern.  Giant square pillars rose into the darkness above them. 

“What is this place?” Fenris mused.

“This is the vault,” Varric said scanning the vast space with its columns veined with lyrium.  “The dwarves would have brought-” Varric stopped, turning as rocks tumbling together sounded behind him.  “This can’t be good,” he said, watching a huge rock wraith form and tower over them.

“Its larger than the demon,” Rory said.

“And infused with red lyrium,” Anders said stepping back with Varric to give the fighters room to swing their blades.  “It may have magical powers, like some of the other Profane.  Be careful.”

Taking their now familiar positions, Alun and Fenris attacked the beast’s legs, Varric aimed his bolts at the core and head, while Anders alternated his healing and elemental spells.  This Profane had more talents than its smaller brethren.  In addition to the stone swords extending from each arm, which could spark lightening during a slash, the creature could roll itself into a ball and roll into its adversaries or form itself into a pike and lunge.  Fenris and Alistair barely leaped to either side the first time the Profane attacked in this mode.  Fortunately, Rory, Alun, and Fenris learned to recognize when it began to change shape and could avoid being rolled over or impaled, but it also limited the damage they could inflict. 

Once they thought they had seen all its tricks, it did something new.   It disappeared and reappeared across the room, threatening Varric and Anders, who moved to put one of the pillars between them and the Wraith, while the warriors and Rory rushed to the creature’s new position.  No sooner had they begun to attack again, the creature transported itself to the room’s center and began to spin, unleashing a red haze.

Varric and Anders, already behind a pillar, began yelling at the fighters to join them.   Fenris, the last to reach the shadow of the pillar blocking the radiating haze, stumbled and leaned against the column, fumbling for his potion belt.  Alun held out a vial as Anders cast a healing spell on all of them.  Quaffing the potion, Fenris nodded at his fellow warrior.  The five companions huddled behind the pillar until the haze faded.  Venturing out, they found the Wraith collapsed after its exertions and rushed to attack.  As they did, smaller Profane appeared, which Rory and Varric quickly subdued, while Anders froze and Alun and Fenris attacked, hopeful that the creature had exhausted itself.  A vain hope, it turned out.

Not only did the Wraith revive, it added new methods of attack, sometimes exploding itself.  Falling flat or retreating behind the pillars proved the only defense against the blast of rocks.  Pillars also provided a defense against the vortex which pulled all the companions towards the Wraith.  Anders and Varric stayed near a pillar as they shot and cast, while Rory, Alun, and Fenris tried to stay aware of the nearest one so they could retreat quickly to relative safety. 

Collapsing against the pillar, Alun swore, gulped a healing potion, and peered as far around the pillar as he dared.  “Are we even doing any damage to that thing?”

The others looked at each other.  Anders and Varric had managed to remain unscathed, but only by repeatedly retreating behind the pillar, which limited the effectiveness of their attacks.  Rory’s face had blood splashed across it from a slash to her arm.  Fenris and Alun had no visible bleeding, but both moved more slowly than usual.  Anders’ healing and the potions did not fully heal the bruising inflicted by the rock hewn weapons the Wraith wielded.

“It seems not,” Fenris finally said.  “This radiation seems as strong this time as the last two.”

“Maybe it will take it longer to recover,” Alun said.  His mouth quirked as he thought, _you_ _’re bright siding_.

The others looked at each other, wondering what the normally serious warrior would find amusing in this situation.

“That’s an optimistic view, Grey.”

“Called bright-siding.”  Seeing their confusion, he explained.  “You know, looking on the bright side.”

Varric snorted. 

“Strange time to do that,” Fenris rumbled.

“No, it’s a good time,” Rory said.  “Makes me feel better anyway.”  She smiled at Alun.

‘Let’s pretend I’m right,” Alistair said.  “It’s about to collapse, I think.”

They rushed out and attacked the rock pile, trying to inflict as much damage as they could, leaving Anders and Varric to handle the Profane who seemed to appear whenever the giant Wraith completed a radiation attack.

The three blade wielders forced themselves to strengthen their attack as the creature collected itself and tried to rise from the ground.  It failed and fell back.  As it did, Varric and Anders killed the last Profane.  The five of them stood in place for some time before anyone spoke.

“Well, that’s another creature I can add to my collection of strange beasts battled,” Alun muttered. 

“Large collection?” Rory asked.

Alun shook his head.  “Too large.”

“Rock wraiths are supposed to be dwarven legends,” Varric said.  “They’re not even supposed to be real.”

“Maybe you should have told it that and it would have just gone away,” Anders said, as Fenris hid his chuckle with a cough.

The five companions left the pile of rocks behind and continued across the cavern.

“Let’s hope that key is here somewhere,” Alun said, poking among the rocks littering the ground. 

They searched the cavern, beginning on the side where they had entered and moving across the space.  As they reached the far side, Varric disappeared around a wall.  The other four companions followed his voice.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter if it’s real,” Varric said, a smile slowly widening.  “Look at what it was guarding,”

“Maker!” Alun said, as Anders dropped to his knees and let gold coins flow through his fingers.

“It’s all treasure,” Fenris said.

“Lots of treasure,” Hawke said, as she smiled too.  “Enough to buy back mother’s patrimony and keep Bethany safe.”

“Let’s hope the key is here too,” Alun said softly and nodded towards the door which might lead out to the upper roads.  “Each of you take a box and start searching.”

“While you’re searching for that key, gather as many of the best items as you can carry.  Let’s make this fiasco worth our time,” Varric suggested.

“The key,” Rory sang, waving a large brass key over her head.  “Now to collect what I can carry.”

“Don’t empty your packs,” Alistair cautioned.  “We still have to get through the Deep Roads, so we’ll need potions and food.”  He looked at the chests.  “If we pay attention as we walk out, maybe leave some marks, we can return.  Don’t take more than you can carry.   It’s safer here than dropping it along the way.”

“Can we put wheels on some of these chests?” Varric wondered.   “Blondie, can you conjure up some wheels and axles?”

Anders laughed.  “Sorry, Varric, I’m a mage, not a smith or carter.”

“How about a sledge?  With five of us, we can take turns pulling it and still stay observant,” Rory said, giving Alun a sideways glance.

Alun smiled.  “We can try it, Rory, assuming the others agree.”

“I might be able to create an icy path,” Anders said, rubbing his chin.  “It should take much effort and will make sliding the sledge easier.”

“So, you can make wheels,” Varric chuckled, “or their equivalent.”

“Maybe two to pull, two to lead and scout and one to follow?”  Alun suggested.

“You expect more dangers in front of us, rather than behind?” Fenris asked and then looked at Anders.  “Assuming that Anders leads.”

Anders snorted, but, seeing a look from Hawke, refrained from commenting.

Alun regarded the elf for some time before answering.  “I do expect trouble ahead.  We’ve killed off all the Profane and Anders senses no darkspawn, but I expect that will change as we climb.”

“We need Blondie to make that icy path, so you might as well accept it, Broody,” Varric said.  “And he’s the only warden among us.”  The dwarf looked at Alun.  “Right Grey?”

“Right.”  Alun knelt to fill the pouch he had created from his spare tunic, ignoring Varric’s smirk, while the others worked on creating the improvised sledge.  _Could be worse.  He could have called me Prince._ Alun shook his head.  _At least he hasn_ _’t told the others or reported my survival or whereabouts._  He frowned.  _As far as I know._

They packed quickly, improvising the sledge using blades for runners and broken crates and chests for the bed.  Smaller chests and pouches held the coins, gems, and even weapons and armor stored in the vault.  After ensuring the key worked, they settled down for some food and rest before continuing their journey.

“Are you always this cautious, Grey?” Varric asked as he readied another stew.  Alun had insisted he ration the remaining food to make sure they had enough for a week’s journey.

“In the Deep Roads, I am,” he said.  “The Profane aren’t edible and I haven’t seen a deepstalker, a deep mushroom, or even a spider in days.”

“You’d eat a spider,” Rory squeaked, as Anders mimed retching.

“I never have, but take out the poison sacs and, yes, if the alternative was dying of hunger.”

“He has a point,” Fenris said.  “Let’s ration what we have carefully.”

“And keep a careful watch,” Rory added.  “I don’t want any Profane to surprise us!”

“I’ll stay with you for the first turn of the glass,” Alun said.  “You shouldn’t watch alone in here.” 

Gathering outside the door after their rest, they set out on a passage that soon began to climb.

“I’d say this is our way back,” Varric said.

“How long to get back?” Rory asked.

“If we’re unlucky, maybe a week.”

“And if we’re lucky?”

“We stumble over Bartrand’s corpse on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	12. Long Road Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:32 Dragon - Deep Roads Expedition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 12: Long Road Home**

**9:32 Dragon, Justinian === In the Deep Roads**

Varric watched Fenris and Alun pull the sledge along the pavers lining the floor of the ancient dwarven road. Back in the Rock Wraith’s vault, Anders had augmented the heat from the fire’s coals to soften three blades enough that he, Fenris, and Alun could curve the hilt upwards around the edge of the boards forming the front of the sledge. They used rope around the cross-guard and tang, having removed the pommel and grip, to lash the blades securely in place. The weight of the load kept the sledge firmly grounded

“Have to give you credit, Grey, I never thought your plan would work. Expected to see treasure scattered all over the road by now.”

“Without the swords’ protection, the boards would have splintered against the Roads and you would have seen scattered treasure,” Alun said. “The metal makes it easier to pull, but the main purpose of the blades is to protect the wood.”

“We’ve managed to pull that thing for three days with no upsets. Credit goes to you for the idea.” Varric put a hand to his forehead and saluted the warrior.

Alun nodded, but said nothing more and kept pulling the load. Most of the way had been along paved roads, but steps interrupted the gradual uphill grade periodically, forcing them to carry the treasure and sledge to the next smooth passage. It slowed their progress, but, with no more Profane or shades appearing to delay them with attacks, they made better time than they had on the approach to the vault.

“Must still be too deep for darkspawn,” Anders said, stopping to pay full attention to his sensations. “I get nothing.”

As he stepped forward, a glob of green spittle flew past his shoulder. In the shadows, what had looked like rocks uncurled into creatures loping towards them on two legs.

“Deepstalkers,” Alun snarled, dropping the rope and pulling his blades from their sheaths. “Watch out for the poison spitting ones and the jumpers. They have a nasty bite and worse claws on their forelegs.”

Alun and Fenris stepped into the mass of eight or ten ‘stalkers, leaving Rory to protect the mage and the dwarf. Anders cast and Varric shot while dodging the globs of poison spit at them. Several more deepstalkers joined the first batch before the companions managed to kill them all.

“Do they always travel in packs?” Varric asked.

“Yeah,” Anders said.

“What you don’t want to stumble into is a nest with a queen. They defend it viciously and there’s always dozens,” Alun said.   He held several of the bodies. “Good news is we have dinner.”

Anders chuckled at the expressions on Rory, Varric, and Fenris’ faces. “Take out the poison sacs and they’re pretty tasty,” Anders said.

“Like chicken, right?” Varric said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, no, more like pork,” Anders replied.

Rory laughed. “We still have the wood we kept from the broken casks, so we can have a fire.” Her smile faded as she looked at the puzzlement on Anders and Alun’s faces. “You do roast the ‘stalkers, right?”

Alun and Anders looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess we could roast them, but usually-”

“-they’re playing you Hawke,” Varric muttered.

The two men let the laughs they had been holding in burst forth. Fenris joined them, as Rory gave all three a glare.

“These five should feed us all,” Alun said.

A few hours later, settled into an alcove cut into the walls of the passage, they passed around a not quite empty skin of Antivan Brandy Varric had brought.

“They weren’t bad,” Varric said. “Not as good as nug, but edible. What happens if you eat the poison gland?”

“You die,” Anders said. “Or, get really sick. That poison is strong, which is why you don’t want it hitting your skin. Put on your helmets, pull down your visors, wear your gloves, and all your armor when the deepstalkers attack. Those globs of spit stick to your skin and the poison sinks in.”

The light and warmth, from the flow of lava that paralleled the ancient road, combined with full stomachs made the five companions relax. They passed the brandy again while Varric told one of his tales and then encouraged each of the others to speak. Anders had a story of about a spirit in the Blackmarsh from his time with the Fereldan wardens, but the other three stayed quiet when he finished. Varric poked Hawke saying she must have a story, knowing Fenris disliked speaking of his past and guessing Alun would not respond well to prodding. Rory frowned at him, but leaned forward, arms around her knees and looked at Alun.

“You know, I grew up in Lothering,” she said. “I was at Ostagar with my brother, but we returned to Lothering just after General Loghain left with his half of the army.” Still staring at Alun, her eyes narrowed. “Two Grey Wardens and a woman arrived not long after we did.”

“How could you tell they were Grey Wardens?” Anders asked, giving Alun a sidelong glance. “Were they wearing the armor?”

“No, but Carver and I had seen them with the wardens in camp; and the guards Loghain left behind in Lothering knew them and tried to arrest them. They failed.”

Varric watched Alun as Rory spoke.

“The wardens killed all the General’s men, save one, and settled into camp on the edge of town for several days. I saw them with Sister Leliana and heard they had freed the Qunari the Chantry had caged for murder. A woman, with a mabari, who had taken up residence in the old windmill joined too. Before they left the town, two other Grey Wardens, a human and a dwarf, whom I met on the road one day, also joined them.” She stared at Alun. “I always wondered why those wardens and their companions abandoned Lothering to the darkspawn.”

Fenris poked at the remains of the fire, while Anders shifted uncomfortably, wondering how Alistair would respond.

“Is that a question?” Alun finally asked.

“Yes. You were there. Or, if not you, then your twin.” She waited but Alun said nothing. “Oh, you didn’t have the scar or the beard, and you look older now, but you’re the same man. It’s why you can lead us down here.”

“We figure you don’t want the world to know you’re alive, Grey, and we won’t tell anyone, but your disguise doesn’t hide you that well,” Varric added. “Thought maybe you should know that too.”

Alun looked at Fenris, who shrugged. “I don’t care who you used to be, Alun. I’ve heard who these two think you are, but if you want to be the Queen of Antiva, it’s no matter to me.”

Alun’s lips quirked at that and Anders snorted.

“Seems like Blondie knows who you are,” Varric said, “so I’m guessing most of the stories you’ve told us about your travels are true. The best lies have a foundation in truth.”

“And Jowan must know you too, since you avoid him so carefully,” Rory said. “Can’t blame you for not trusting him, I guess.”

“Don’t leave Cullen out,” Alun added. “Went to school with him, trained as a templar with him, and last saw him in the Ferelden Tower after the mage uprising.”

Rory’s eyes widened. “You know Knight-Captain Cullen? So we’re right, you are him? The Warden-Commander who killed the Archdemon?”

“And a bastard prince,” Varric added.

“All true, but…” he took a deep breath and looked at Anders, “every warden who killed an archdemon in the past, died. I did not. The First Warden and his staff will want to know why, if they knew I lived. I’d likely spend the rest of my life as a prisoner in Weisshaupt, their fortress up north. And the prince thing…the Orlesians want me in Orlais to breed Theirins who could claim the Fereldan throne. Never very keen on that option either. Staying at Soldier’s Peak didn’t solve the problem. Someone there would have let my existence slip sometime. Disappearing seemed the best choice.” He looked at Varric. “And thanks for not calling me Prince. Grey doesn’t give away as much.”

Varric nodded and then rubbed his chin. “Rivaini knows?”

“Yes. I met her in Denerim. I’m forever grateful to her for keeping quiet. She…,” he smiled, and his eyes stared into the faint stream of smoke rising to the ceiling far above, “…she liked a friend…well, one of my good friends was an old friend of hers and she liked my…lover, who died. Lys died.” He looked back at the group around the fire and shrugged. “She keeps it quiet for Lys’ sake, I think.” His lip quirked. “And maybe because our mutual friend would get angry if she didn’t.”

“That’s some friend, if Rivaini’s intimidated,” Varric chuckled.

“And you, mage,” Fenris rumbled, staring at Anders, “Where do you fit?”

“Pretty much as Varric assumed.   What we’ve told you is true,” Alun answered. “We recruited Anders from the Fereldan Circle Tower and we traveled together some of the time. Then he saved my life. I didn’t die from killing the Archdemon, as I should have, but I was badly injured.” He ran a finger along the scar. “This was the least of it. Anders healed me…physically anyway.”

“Why didn’t you die?” Varric asked.

“Something about an ancient ritual, the Witch of the Wilds, and-”

“-all right, all right, you don’t know or won’t say,” Varric chuckled, hands held up palm outwards.

Hawke said nothing, but looked thoughtful at the mention of the Witch of the Wilds.

“But you are a warden,” Fenris said.

“No, I’m not. Not anymore. Weisshaupt would find that fascinating too, and another reason to keep me a prisoner to find out why and how.”

“Then we keep it quiet,” Fenris announced, looking at Rory and Varric in turn. “He’s been a friend to us. No reason to invite Orlesians or wardens to hunt him as Danarius hunts me.”

Hawke and Varric nodded agreement.

“Good thing,” Anders said, a ball of fire forming on his palm. “I won’t have to kill you all.” Fenris’ eyes narrowed and Varric snorted, but Hawke’s eyes widened. “You’d kill us to protect him?”

Anders stared back at her, letting the flames burn on.

“Glad I didn’t oppose you taking charge then,” she said to Alistair and smiled. “You not only do it well, you win the loyalty of your followers.”

Anders let the flames dissipate.

“How about killing this skin instead,” Varric asked. “I think we could all us another round.” He passed the brandy to Rory who held up the skin and said, “To…Alun.” The others   followed suit, leaving Alistair with the final swig. He finished the brandy.

“Thank you. I…we should have discussed me taking over. I could have done that better.”

“I couldn’t have led us better down here,” she replied, “but knowing who you are does make it easier to take.”

“You’re in the lead when we see the sky again,” he said.

“Which can’t come too soon,” Varric snapped. “Have I mentioned-”

“-that you hate the Deep Roads,” the others chorused, and Rory added, “only dozens of times.”

**x==========x**

Several days later, having followed passages that climbed ever upward, they emerged from a short, but badly dugout side tunnel which bypassed a collapsed section of Road and required them to make several trips, carrying the sledge and treasure. As Fenris and Alun repacked the sledge with the caskets and pouches, they heard a scream.

“It’s a nest of them,” they heard Varric bellow.

Rushing forward, they found Varric sending bolt after bolt into a pack of deepstalkers, while Anders cast both lightening and healing spells. In the midst of the deepstalkers, Rory’s blades whirled, as she tried to keep her footing against the vicious creatures spitting, leaping, and slamming themselves against her.

“Carve a path to Hawke,” Fenris shouted, rushing into mass of ‘stalkers.

“We need to get back against a wall,” Alun shouted as he waded into the fray, his own blades whirling, slashing, and decapitating as he went. “Fenris, get Hawke and pull back to me. I’ll keep this path open. Form an arc around Varric and Anders and fight from there.”

Fenris managed to reach Hawke, just as she collapsed beneath the onslaught. Sheathing his great blade, he grabbed one of Rory’s, and, slashing with one hand, pulled her to her feet with the other. “Can you-”

“-I can walk,” she shouted, “and fight.” She stabbed a ‘stalker as they backed toward Alun.

Varric focused on dropping one ‘stalker at a time on either side of the path Alun frantically worked to keep clear. Anders sent lightening beyond his companions to slow the advance of the mass of deepstalkers trying to get to Fenris, who again faced the horde with his greatsword, and Rory, who had turned toward Alun, her back to Fenris, swinging both her own blades. As soon as the they reached the former grey warden, the three companions continued to close the gap between themselves and Varric and Anders, until they did form an arc against the passage wall, killing each wave of deepstalkers.

“Where’s your helmet, Hawke?” Varric roared.

“Dropped it when I fell,” she shouted, ducking as another blob just missed her head.

Alun glanced over at the woman and realized several huge globs of spittle had landed in her hair, and on her forehead and cheek.   She still fought, but he saw her blows weakening or missing their target. He realized he could do nothing beyond hoping that Ander’s healing spells would keep her upright and alive until they could clean it off.

As he fought off another wave, he yelled to get the elf’s attention. He nodded towards Hawke and saw Fenris’ eyes widen. The elf nodded. He moved closer to Hawke, but could not stop fighting to wipe the poisonous glop from her head. He saw her moves slowing as the poison took its toll.

“Hawke, wipe that glop off your head,” he yelled to her.   “I’ll cover you.”

Rory dropped one blade and ran her gloved right hand over her face and hair, which removed the largest blobs, but rubbed in what remained. She shed the glove, now covered in green goo and retrieved her sword, swaying slightly as she tried to slash at a creature that broke past Fenris guard. “Fenris, I….” She swayed again and moved back to lean against the wall, but continued to slash at the creatures that got past Fenris.      

Lightening jumped from one creature to another in the mass attacking the companions, as ice enveloped them. Now that they had retreated to fight together, Anders could release more devastating spells. The deepstalker queen and her guards succumbed to this storm of lightening and ice, augmented by bolt, and blade, leaving smaller, less powerful ‘stalkers to continue the attack.

“They just don’t give up, do they?” Varric yelled.

“No. They fight to death to defend their nest,” Alun said. “It’s in the alcove across the way, but I think all the ‘stalkers have joined the fight here, so once we kill these….” He slashed at one who jumped towards his face.

The friends fell silent as they continued to slash, stab, cast, and loose. Alun moved closer to Hawke, finally standing, with Fenris, in front of her when she collapsed. Alun heard Varric yell Hawke! and Anders swear, as he took time to cast another healing spell before returning to the attack.   Finally, the last deepstalker fell with a squawk.

“Keep watch,” Anders snapped and knelt beside Hawke. He fumbled in the pack he had dropped when the attack began and pulled out his water skin and a cloth. Filled earlier in the day, when they passed a natural cistern feed by a trickle from somewhere above, he needed all the water his companions could provide. He dampened the cloth and began to clean the poisonous glop from Hawke’s face, careful not to push it into her eyes, nose or mouth. She moaned as he worked, but her eyes did not open.

“Maker’s Toenails,” Anders muttered, “she has a nasty bite as well, and a deep slash across her cheek. That let the poison absorb more quickly.”

“Can you heal it.”

“Not until it’s clean,” Anders snapped.

“Fine, Blondie,” Varric said, hands up palms out, “tell us what you need.”

“Water, preferably hot.”

“I’ll get some wood and we’ll start a fire,” Varric promised.

Varric caught up to Fenris and Alun who had slowly moved across the passage looking for more deepstalkers. Finding none, they approached the nests and began destroying eggs and any young they found.

“These will make a nice fire,” Fenris noted, kicking a nest of twigs, shredded cloth and dried vegetation.

“And lots of smoke,” Alun said. “Maybe too much. Still, we can take some with us for a fire tonight somewhere away from here.”

“I need those twigs and grass right now,” Varric said. “You collect more for tonight.” He carried a bundle back to Anders, stacked it and let the mage ignite a blaze, while he pulled a small pot from his pack and filled it with water.

“Thanks, Varric. I’ll get this cut cleaned out. I’ve given her a health potion and the one antivenin I had. I’m hop…it will have to be enough.” He looked up as Fenris and Alun returned.

“You think there’s more creatures?”

“They hunt,” Alun said. “Could be hunters who will return later.”

““Is there an antivenin?” Fenris asked, as they stopped beside Anders.

“Yeah,” Alun said, getting a surprised glance from Anders. “I have some. A friend came up with it after we ran into one too many packs of the damn things.”

“You have some?” Anders asked, surprised to find Alistair had some of the potion Morrigan and Mel had devised after Haven.

Alun smirked and nodded. “In my pack. I left Ferelden well prepared for just about anything, including deepstalkers and spiders. I’ll get it.”

“I gave Rory the one I had, but I’ll need another later. Save it for then,” Anders said. “Right now, I’d like to put some distance between us and the deepstalker nest.” Settling Hawke on the sledge as comfortably as they could, Alun and Fenris pulled the sledge, while Anders walked alongside, and Varric followed, Bianca at the ready.

After some time, they found an undamaged side chamber, probably once a guard post, where they could be safer from attack. Stone hewn benches lined two walls, wooden debris lay in one corner, and a hole in the ceiling opened above a wall blackened with soot. Anders and Fenris soon had a small fire, sufficient for heating water and roasting deepstalker, lit beneath the vent hole, which channeled the smoke into the high ceiling of the Roadway.

“I guess my brethren in the thaigs must have been cleverer than I thought. That hole draws the smoke up better than most smoke holes on the surface,” Varric said. “I thought we’d be choking in this small space, but it’s not bad.”

On one wall of the guard post, deeper chambers had been carved into the stone. Each was large enough for a dwarf or short human or elf to use as a bed. After Alun and Varric removed her armor, Alun laid Rory on her cloak in one of the chambers closest to the fire. At more than a head taller than Varric, she did not fit into the dwarvish bed lying flat, so he used her pack to prop her shoulders and head up against one end of the chamber. Fenris covered her with his cloak. Her breathing seemed normal and even, which Anders pronounced a good sign.

Once they had unpacked and settled in, Alun pulled out the tiny hourglass he carried. Filled with extremely fine sand, it took half a candle mark to drain from one side to the other. The group used it to measure their watches. Otherwise, in the Deep Roads, they simply followed their body’s signs eating when hungry and sleeping when tired. Now, Anders would use the glass to mark when he could give Hawke a second antivenin potion.

“Is she asleep or unconscious,” Fenris asked.

“Sort of both. She was unconscious, but I used a sleep spell while we moved her,” Anders replied. “She should wake naturally when it wears off. That should happen before I give her the second potion. She can take some water and, maybe, some food and the potion. She’ll need more sleep, or at least rest, before she can keep up with us.”

“We’ll stay until she can travel,” Alun said. “There should be water nearby, if the dwarves once kept a guard post here. Varric and I will go find it, while you two stay here with Hawke.” He looked at Varric. “So much for a week to get to the surface, but we still might trip over Bartrand.”

Varric snorted and glanced at Hawke. “I’ll settle for all of us getting out of here safely.”

**x==========x**

A week after their fight with the deepstalkers, they finally came around a bend in the passage and saw daylight far ahead. Alun held up a hand to signal them to stop.

“Something wrong?” Varric asked, Alun.

“I don’t know. I want to see if anything is moving against the daylight. Then Hawke and I can scout ahead and wait for the rest of you near the mouth.” He looked at Hawke. “If you feel up to it, that is.”

It had taken Rory several days to recover enough to shoulder her pack and start walking again. She had protested, but her companions refused to resume the trek until Anders declared her ready to walk. They had moved more slowly despite Hawke’s protests, taking more breaks and longer nighttime stops. On the rest of the journey in the Deep Roads, they had met no darkspawn and only a few more spiders and deepstalkers. During those encounters, a helmeted Hawke had stayed with Varric and Anders, protecting them, while Fenris and Alun attacked their foes.

“Once we get outside, we’ll need to scout the path out to the main road,” she added. “I recall a farm not too far along. Maybe we can hire the farmer’s cart and mule to carry our goods to Kirkwall.” She smiled at Alun. “You agree?” she asked him.

“Yeah. Good plan to get these…goods…back safely. Maybe add some goods from the farmer to put on top of the load?”

Fenris snorted as Hawke nodded her assent. “Perhaps you two could continue your planning while you walk. I, for one, would like to spend the night under the sky.”

Alun smiled and began to walk, but Hawke gave the elf one of her famous glares before following the warrior.

“He’s just reassuring her, Broody,” Varric said. “She had to be worried he would keep giving orders.”

“He won’t,” Anders said. “He’s used to strong women.” Anders chuckled. “Mel could have given Hawke a run for her money, but she wouldn’t have. She’d have charmed her.”

“That’s his lover?” Varric asked.

“Partner. They had Dalish promise rings made of iron bark. They could sense each other when they were separated. They were more than lovers.”

“Magic rings?” Varric chortled. “This gets better and better.”

“She was a warden too?” Fenris asked.

“No. A noble, a teyrn’s daughter, who could wield her blades or her words equally well.” Anders shook his head. “He’s not the only one who mourns her.”

“Sooo, the tales about him and a teyrn’s daughter are true?” Varric asked.

“I wouldn’t try to pry it out of him, Varric,” Anders warned. “He won’t even reminisce with me.”

“Must be quite a story.”

“Yeah, but not a happy ending,” Anders said and peered towards the daylight, his back to the dwarf.

**x==========x**

Finding nothing menacing at the tunnels mouth, Rory and Alun had left the elf, dwarf and mage behind with the treasure, and gone down the road to the farm they remembered.   There, the farmer agreed to let them take the cart and mule if his son could accompany them, and bring the cart and animal back. Rory suggested he add some of his crop to the load, which his son could sell, and promised to make sure the boy returned safely with coin, cart, and mule. The farmer agreed, happy to have some of his newly harvested apples and grain sold in the city, where it would bring a better price.

In addition to the hired cart and mule, Alun had acquired several simple crates, a few sacks made of heavy woven cloth, and some simple tunics. Adding straw to the crates to cover their treasure, packing sacks of grain and apples on top, and putting the tunics over their armor gave the companions the look of farmers taking a load to sell in Kirkwall, which, Fenris agreed, made them less likely targets for bandits. Varric sat in the back of the cart with the farmer’s son, telling stories to make the young man more comfortable with the unusual company, Bianca near at hand. Fenris’ sword rested along the side of the cart where he could reach it from his position walking behind the others. Rory and Alun had their shorter blades sheathed at their hips, as farmhands might, but their second blades rested under the seat of the cart, which Alun or Rory drove. Anders walked beside the cart, swinging his staff with each step.    

**9:32 Dragon, Solas === Kirkwall**

The mule cart rumbled to a stop at the Hanged Man a week later, after a blessedly uneventful trip from the farmstead. Upon arriving in Kirkwall, they left the farmer’s son with Lirene, in the Lowtown market, to distribute the apples and grain which she purchased from him with money from Alun. Rory promised to return in two days, with the cart, to escort him back to his home. From there, they made their way to the Hanged Man and unloaded their own baggage, storing the treasure in Varric’s rooms.

“You know, none of us will have to work again,” Varric said.

“Or we can work at what we choose,” Rory replied.

“And ignore the damn Merchant Guild,” Varric added.

“Or help the refugees,” Alun said. “This should keep your clinic in business for a long time, Anders.”

“The clinic and other things,” the mage said.

“What, your plans to free mages from the Circle?” Fenris growled.

“To send them to safer places than this Circle,” Anders snapped. “Not all Circles are as bad as this one.”

Alun raised an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting viewpoint, coming from you. I thought all Circles were bad.”

“They are…just,” he rubbed his forehead, “some are much worse than others. I ran away from the Fereldan Circle, what, five times? Several times before my Harrowing. They never made me Tranquil.” He chuckled. “I’d love to see old Greagoir’s face if he heard me say the Fereldan Tower wasn’t so bad, but compared to the Gallows? They make Harrowed mages Tranquil for looking at templars the wrong way.” He looked at Alun. “I learned a lot, when I visited Highever, about how mages can make a life. We do need training and education, just like any mundane, but we also need to move about freely, have families, work, live our lives.”

“He’s right,” Hawke said. “We would have stayed in Highever, but Father was a runaway and it was too close to Kirkwall. Even if the local templars didn’t look for us there, the Kirkwall templars would have, so we left. In Ferelden, templars did not spend all their time seeking out apostates. I always wondered if Ser Bryant knew about my father. If he did, he never acted on it.” She looked at Alun. “Do you know-”

“-he’s in Redcliffe, at the Chantry there.”

“Good. And Sister Leliana? Bethany loved her stories.”

“She went back to Haven, with Brother Genitivi, to explore the Temple of Andraste’s Ashes,” Anders said.

“Bethany will be happy to hear of them both,” Rory said and gathered up her pack. “Speaking of which, I should get home and give them the good news.”

“Want company?” Anders and Fenris asked at the same time.

“Only if you don’t argue the whole way,” Hawke replied. “And you promise to go with me to take that farm boy back to his father.”

Fenris glanced from Anders to Hawke. “He did save your life,” the elf muttered.

“With magic,” Anders said, wiggling his eyebrows. Rory rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Fenris agreed, “with potions and healing magic. I can tolerate you for now.”

“How generous-” Anders stopped, when he saw Hawke’s eyes narrowing. “Right, no arguing or smart remarks.”

“And we’ll go back to the farm with you.”

Hawke turned on her heel and walked out of Varric’s room, followed by the mage and elf.

“That truce might last until they reach Gamlen’s,” Varric said.

“If not, Hawke will throttle them both,” Alun replied. Turning he looked at the stack of caskets and sacks. “Maker, how will you sell all this?”

“That is my forte, Grey. Don’t worry. I’ll get the best prices. First, we need to sort it. Gems. Coin. Jewelry. Chalices. Fancy weapons. Then I’ll need to decide if the pieces should be sold as is or broken into gold, silver and gems.” He looked at Alun. “I could use some help.”

Alistair nodded.   “Let me clean up and unpack first, and then I’ll help.” He slung his pack over one shoulder and headed to his room.

Opening the door, Alistair frowned at the smell of charcoal burning in his fireplace. A figure rose from a chair by the hearth. Alistair reached for his blade, but, ducked when he saw a flicker of light appear on the figure’s hand. The man laughed.

“I should freeze you where you stand to pay you back for taking off without a word.”

“Liam!” Alistair dropped his pack. “I did leave word.”

“Right. Cryptic and short.”

“What you don’t know you can’t tell.”

“You think I’d give you up to Weisshaupt? Or Orlais?”

Alistair sighed. “Not knowingly or willingly. Of course not. I…it’s not what I would do today, but then….”

“Morrigan said you were…well she didn’t use the word, but despondent.”

Alistair snorted. “Yeah, that’s a good word. I’ve found a place of sorts here. It’s better, but too many people seem to figure out who I am. Varric, Hawke, Fenris…Anders knew right away, of course, but I’ve managed to avoid Jowan and his passenger.” He looked at Liam. “How in the Makers name did you let that happen!”

“Let it happen!”

“Sorry, it’s just such a…bad thing.”

The two stood looking at each other.

“So, are we angry at each other?” Alistair asked.

Liam took a few steps forward and Alistair did the same. They extended hands, but Liam grabbed his wrist and pulled Alistair forward, wrapping his other arm around his friend’s shoulder saying, we’ve missed you.

**x==========x**

Hawke, Fenris and Anders climbed the stairway to Gamlen’s door. They could hear yelling but could not make out the words. Pushing the door open Hawke entered and saw Bethany facing Leandra and Gamlen. Knight-Commander Cullen stood to one side with two templars.

“What’s going on,” Rory shouted, ensuring she would be heard above the yelling.

Bethany whirled around, eyes wide. “Rory.”

“Your sister has turned herself into the Templars,” Gamlen snapped.

“They’ve come to take her to the Gallows,” Leandra wailed.

Rory looked at the Knight-Captain. “May I speak with my sister? Privately.” Rory nodded towards the door at the back of the dwelling.

The two templars moved towards Hawke, but Cullen held up his hand to stop them and walked over to the door, opened it, and surveyed the room.

“Go ahead,” he said, “but we must take her, Serah Hawke. It’s not negotiable.”

Jaw clenched Hawke strode past the templars, took Bethany by the wrist and pulled her along to the small bedroom. Pushing her inside, she turned and blocked a tearful Leandra.   “I’ll speak with her, Mother.” She shut the door.

Bethany faced Hawke, arms crossed. “This is my decision, Sister.”

“Why?”

“I can help the mage underground from inside,” she murmured and then raised her voice. “I can train other mages once I’m Harrowed. Teach them to be safe. Work from within.”

“This is Jowan’s idea.” Rory hissed.

“No, it is mine. My idea and my choice.” She unfolded her arms and held them open, palms up. “Rory, I’m useless out here, hiding and skulking around. Following you and using Primal spells against bandits can only get me in trouble eventually and I’m not a healer. Others can make potions as well as I can.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she added, “Inside, I can help the Collective and the Underground. Help mages get out.” She crossed her arms again. “Besides, it’s too late. The Knight-Captain is outside. Do you plan on fighting him?”

Hawke’s shoulders sagged, and she suddenly felt completely exhausted. “No, I can’t fight Knight-Captain Cullen, much less his templars,” she said softly. “I just wish you had waited.”

“For what?”

“For me and the protection I could buy.”

“Buy?”

“We came back with a lot of treasure, Beth. I can buy Mother’s patrimony, the estate, and, I hoped, your safety, either here or back home in Ferelden.”

“You…there was treasure?”

“Yeah. We’re rich,” Hawke said, a bitter edge to her words.

“Mother will be happy.”

Rory shook her head. “She’ll worry about you every day, even while she enjoys returning to her childhood home. I just wish-”

“-but I didn’t Rory. I didn’t wait.”

“Then promise me, if it gets too dangerous, you will escape and let me get you to safety,” Rory whispered, grabbing Bethany’s forearm.

“I promise,” Bethany whispered and jumped at a knock on the door.

“Serah Hawke!”

Rory opened the door. “Knight-Captain. Thank you. My sister is ready to accompany you. I hold you responsible for her safety.”

Cullen pressed his lips together. Rory noticed a scar on his upper lip. “I’ll see she is treated fairly, Serah Hawke.” He handed Bethany a vial. “As we discussed, Mage Hawke, drink this and we won’t bind your wrists.”

Bethany took the vial and tilted it to her lips, downing it in one swallow. “Ugh,” she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Magebane,” she explained to Rory.

“It’s better than shackles, Serah Hawke. Your sister and I discussed the options and she agreed,” Cullen said. “Bethany, say your goodbyes.” While Bethany hugged Leandra under the templars’ watchful eyes, Cullen leaned toward Rory. “I’ll get word when I can,” he whispered, “through Varric.” He turned and took Bethany’s elbow to lead her out of the tenement. His templars followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed, favorited or gave kudos. I hope to post more regularly now that I've got a few chapters completed. Sometimes real life intervenes, but I plan on completing Lys' story.   
> Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	13. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Areth and Gwaren late 9:32 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.
> 
>  

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 13: Purpose**

**9:32 Dragon  === Areth**

The ancient copper beech in the yard behind the townhouse had begun to drop its leaves as autumn storms blew through Revona.  Lys watched from the deck as Kai and Maric, bows in hand, shot at the archery butt set up in the back garden.  Maric, never an archer as a youth, had taken up the bow with Kai as instructor.  Neither had ventured into the city in several days.  Lys, herself, had only gone out to take Will for a walk or to work with Olivia at the University as a research assistant in conjunction with her classes in Thedosian history and anthropology. The classes themselves she attended on-line from home, allowing her to care for Will.  She had convinced Kai to try a course in Arethian language and literature, but that did not get Kai beyond the Net screen in the office.  The universal translator, which Kai and Maric both wore, worked well for conversations in daily life, at least it did when they ventured out, but Kai liked to read, and Lys hoped becoming literate in Arethian would open a new world of books to her, as well as introduce her to more people with a common interest.  While Kai did enjoy the classes, she had so far avoided any meet ups on campus or at a center city coffee shop.

After watching the two shoot for a time, she called down, announcing she had prepared lunch and, with Will asleep, hoped to enjoy it before he woke.  The archers unstrung their bows and headed for the ground floor entrance below the deck, where they would store their bows, quivers, and arrows.  Going back to the kitchen, Lys heard them coming up the stairs.  Tailie, her aunt’s long-haired dachshund, sat quietly at her feet, hoping a piece of salami would find its way to the floor and provide a snack. 

“Talisker,” Lys said with mock severity, “Out!”  She pointed towards the sitting room.  Huffing his displeasure, the pup stalked out.  “How do you do that,” Lys said to the dog, watching what should have been an ungainly strut clearly convey Tallie’s arrogant dissatisfaction.

“Talking to the dog again?” Kai asked.  “He’s not a mabari, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand.”  Lys poured the soup into a serving bowl and carried it to the table where it joined cheese, salami, bread, and sliced apples.  “I thought today merited soup.  Getting chilly. “

Lys had come to enjoy both her classes and her work with her aunt.  That work, combined with her new role as a Mum, gave her reason to look forward to each day.  She did not see the same enthusiasm in Maric and Kai.  Even though she knew coming to Areth had been a choice, being Lys, she felt responsible for uprooting them from Thedas and wanted to make their lives in Areth more satisfying.  As Maric and Kai served themselves, Lys broached the topic she had been mulling over for some time.  “Neither of you seem to enjoy the city.”

“I enjoy some of the shops,” Maric said.  “That bookstore and map shop.  It’s good having the park nearby.” His eyes slid sideways to see Kai’s smirk.  “As long as no one’s pressing me to ride.”

“I’ve enjoyed my class,” Kai offered, ignoring Maric’s glance. 

“Which you could do from anywhere on the planet,” Lys said.

Kai shrugged.  “True.  Only need the CTab and a Net connection, but what’s your point?”

“The family has a place near the coast in the countryside.  There’s a village nearby where a group of artisans have settled.”

“Let me guess,” Kai said.  “Weavers.”

Lys smiled.  “Yes, and bakers, spinners, dyers, herbalists, smiths of all sorts, plus old-style farmsteads and dairies …the villagers come from Ferelden and they’ve brought the crafts with them and make them here.  There’s also a Workshop, that’s funded by the University, where they make “improved” items which offer some extra protection to Travelers and can be taken back to Thedas.  The gambesons I took for Alistair and I were made there.”  She noticed Maric’s confused frown.  “The gambesons look like wool and linen, but they’re made from a stronger material that will turn a blade or even some arrows.  Under chainmail, they form an almost impermeable barrier.”

“That would be useful,” Maric said.  “Could I-”

“Yes.  They’ll just need your measurements.”

“What else do they make?”

“I don’t have a list, but you could visit and perhaps consult for them.”

“I do have some expertise in armaments,” Maric said, leaning back and rubbing his forehead.

Kai’s eyes narrowed, but she did not voice her thoughts.  _He_ _’s already convinced to agree to whatever she’s planned._   Kai crossed her arms and stared at her friend.  “Do I get one too?”

“Of course.”

“And for whom do I consult?”

“Olivia.”

“I could do that here.”

“Yes…but better there, because of the artisan community and the University’s Anthropology Lab and Workshop.  Liv can explain, but she’s always had an interest in Dalish culture.  She thought maybe you would work with her…us.  She wants to document it, so what knowledge is left, isn’t lost.”

“That will be difficult to do from here.”

“Which is why we may go back at times. I would trust the Rasiae to keep my secret, if we visited them.  There’s a limited portal at the Lab, so Traveling is easy.“

“Limited?” Kai asked.

“Only goes to certain portals, near places being studied.  This one goes to Cumberland and Markham, where Olivia has a place at the University.  They may be adding another if Liv’s current proposal gets approved. Liv wants to explore the Brecilian now that the Blight is over.  She and Mum are planning something they won’t divulge until it’s, as Liv puts it, ‘fully baked’.”

“I do hate soggy centers,” Maric said, eliciting an eye roll from Kai. “Where is this place?”

“Northwest of here.  It’s partly living cultural museum, partly a community of Thedosian Travelers who’ve chosen to remain on Areth like Liv, and partly a laboratory and workshop for supplementing or improving Travelers’ lives.  Each world with Travelers has a similar village.  Since Thedas doesn’t have all the technology we have in Areth, the village and surroundings live much as Arethians did several centuries ago, with some modern modifications, like Net connections.  They drive old electric-powered land vehicles, with wheels, not GroundZIPs, and it’s a slower paced life.  Walking, swimming, riding, hunting-”

“Hunting?”  Maric asked.  “What do they hunt?  What weapons do they use?”

“Bows, old style guns, some modern weapons, and they only hunt for food.  Water fowl, animals similar to Fereldan deer and elk, some boar maybe…not sure what else.  I never hunted here.  I think you’ll like it better than the city.  Our land is like a Fereldan bann’s estate, but the houses have all the modern plumbing, lighting, communications, and household conveniences.”  She waited a moment, but neither Kai or Maric asked a question. “The caretakers are relatives who live in the main house and farm the estate, but the other cottages are for the use of any family member.   I thought…there’s a large cottage overlooking a lake…I thought we could stay there.  We’ll each have a bedroom upstairs.  There’s a large dressing room off one I can use for Will’s nursery.  Each one has its own bathroom-”

“-just like every bann’s estate I’ve ever seen,” Maric quipped, receiving a mock glare from Lys and a chuckle from Kai.

“Sounds like a better place for us.  What do you think, Your Maricness?” Kai asked.

Lys chuckled when Maric groaned at Kai’s nickname for the former king.  “I think it sounds more comfortable for this old Fereldan than the city.”

Lys continued.  “There’s a fourth bedroom for guests and downstairs has an open kitchen, dining, and sitting space, as well as another room we can use as a library and office.”  She smirked at Kai.  “There’s an attached building that has a garage, a guest suite, and a separate wing for looms and spinning wheels.”

“Right, I knew there was weaving involved.”

“There’s a garden too.”

“Sounds good, Lys.  I’m just teasing.  You know I like to spin.”

“That’s good, because my cousins have sheep.”  She looked towards the stairway.  “I think I hear Will asking for his lunch.”

Kai and Maric looked at each other and smiled.  “I never liked Denerim,” Maric said, as Lys left to get Will.  “Can’t say I find cities that enjoyable.  You’d think spending my youth in tents, always too warm or too cold and never having everything we needed would have cured me of country life, but I’d rather ramble along a country track than walk a city street any day.”

“My memories of Denerim aren’t so good either,” Kai agreed.  “I loved our time with the Dalish.  I miss it.  Maybe I’ll start making potions.”

“Soap,” Maric said. 

“Soap?”  Kai frowned, puzzled.  “Oh, like we saw in that shop.  I could sell it you mean?  Hmmm.  That’s a thought.  Does this living cultural area have shops, Lys?”  Kai asked, as mum and baby returned to the couch in the living room.

“Absolutely.  It’s set up for tourists.  Everything made in the village can be sold…well, not all the weapons.“

Kai gathered their bowls and took them to the kitchen.  Maric followed with what was left of the cheese, salami, and bread and went back for the soup bowl.  “I’ll have to learn the plants here and their uses.  Maybe someone in this village will teach me.  Or I could check on the CTab we have.”

“Or get a book.”

Kai grinned at Maric.  “You and your books.”

“I like the feel of it in my hands.  Lys did say there’s a library.”

**x==========x**

A week later, an AirZIP took them to the Cousland estate in Hiever, which Lys pronounced ‘Heever’.  She had explained that while it was named for Highever, the pronunciation had gotten corrupted over the years.  Once in the air, Kai saw a solid carpet of buildings turn into large towns with green space between them.  Viewing the land from above amazed her.  She had seen lands spread out below her from mountain tops, but not the wide expanse she saw from an AirZIP, flying at 15,000 feet.  Lys had told her the larger Planz flew higher and faster, but neither Kai or Maric had been anxious to try them. 

As they flew northwest, the green space grew, and the towns became smaller.  The thirty-minute flight soon took them over rolling countryside, but high mountains could be seen in the distance.  Below them, Maric saw farmland and orchards, both traditional open-air cultivation and large collections of green houses where vegetables and fruit could be grown year-round.   Interspersed, in fenced pastures and on hillsides, sheep and cows grazed.  He also saw GroundZIP pathways, with vehicles moving along at speed, and other vehicles in the open fields, harvesting.  Most, he guessed, were driverless vehicles, just like the six-person AirZip in which he rode.

Feeling disoriented by the view and uneasy at the lack of a driver, he looked over at Lys, holding 10-month-old Will up to the window and whispering to him.  The baby giggled and Maric smiled, and then grabbed the chair’s arms as he felt the AirZIP descending.  Riding, hovering, or flying in ZIPs still made him uncomfortable, particularly the ‘no driver’ part.  He looked forward to using these wheeled carts Lys had mentioned and wondered if a person would the guide the damn thing. 

The small AirZIP hovered and sank to a landing on a pad just past a good-sized house.  Maric, sighing with relief, hefted his own backpack, grabbed Will’s baby bag, and walked down the ramp to the ground, leaving Kai to help Lys with the baby, while locals, who must have come to meet them, unloaded the rest of their luggage.  He glimpsed the house he had seen as they landed behind a screen of trees to his right.  A well-graded dirt road ran past it to the landing pad and continued over a hill to his left.  A copse of trees, just beyond the road, hid the view in front of him.  As Kai, Lys and Will followed him down the ramp, a vehicle approached over the hill.  Maric grinned.  It didn’t hover above the ground as GroundZIPs did; it had wheels solidly rolling along in the dirt.  No animals pulled it, so it had some sort of engine, electric he recalled Lys has said, but, regardless, it seemed comfortingly old-fashioned to Maric. 

Handing Will to Kai, Lys hurried over to what she called ‘the van’, greeted the woman who climbed out, and then waved Maric and Kai over.   Introducing the woman as Maud, her cousin and the estate manager, she explained they would load themselves and their luggage into Maud’s vehicle and go directly to the cottage.  At the cottage they would find similar vehicles they could use to explore the countryside and village once they settled in.

Kai, Maric, and Will, strapped into a baby seat, to keep him safe, Lys said, sat in the rear seats of the van.  Lys sat in front with Maud who steered with a wheel and, Maric learned as he peered over the seat back, pressed pedals on the floor to brake and accelerate. Maud and Lys chatted about mutual friends and family, while Maud drove the van as naturally as any carter guided his team.  Lys, turning to look at Kai and Maric, explained that Maud was a distant cousin and lived in what Lys called the ‘big house’.  A sort of bann, Maric thought, while remembering that they don’t have nobility here.  Lys had said the compound was owned by a family trust, a kind of consortium or syndicate of family members, so Maud was just one of many beneficiaries.  The van bounced along the road, curving around the copse he had seen from the landing pad and going over another rise before turning onto a smaller track with the woods on their right.  Ahead, a roof with two large dormers came into view above a hedge.  Maric recognized the distinctive look of solar tiles on the roof and realized the ‘cottage’ would be fully powered with electricity.  On the other hand, a chimney rose above the roof, but no smoke curled above the cottage, despite the cool weather.  He wondered if the cottage had a working hearth.  _Probably they just kept the old one for appearances, which explains the lack of smoke_.  He realized he missed the smell of smoke and the warmth of a fire.  As the car passed through a gap in the hedge, he saw the driveway curve around the front of a stucco and wood house with a large front window and door.

Maud brought the vehicle to a stop at the front door with a cheery ‘Here we are!’ and got out to help take the baggage inside.  Hefting his pack, the baby bag and a larger case, Maric followed Maud into a large high-ceilinged, open room with rafters stretching across below the arch of the roofline.   Behind him he heard Kai say, “Maker.”  He grinned as he looked at the view before him.  Glass covered the entire rear wall of house, letting in light and providing a view towards a small lake.  He heard Maud and Lys chuckling.

“That view always takes a first-time visitor’s breath away, Wills,” Lys whispered to her son.

“That it does,” Maric said.  “Are they doors?  Do they open?”

“They do.  And it’s south facing, so lots of light and warmth all day.”

Kai looked around the room, seeing well kept, but clearly well used, couches, chairs, and a large dining table.  Beyond the glass wall, a stone-paved patio led to a lawn and the fields leading down to the lake. To her right, a stairway, open to the room on one side, provided the access to the second floor.  Behind it, a kitchen overlooked the dining area.

“Best leave your luggage here by the stair,” Maud said.  “I have lunch ready, the heat’s on, and I’ve laid a fire.  Now mind you, it is a wood fire, but keep those glass doors closed or you’ll lose all the heat from the house up that chimney.”  Seeing Kai and Maric’s confusion, she looked at Lys.  “I’ll let you explain heat loss.”

After a hearty meal, enlivened by Maud’s description of the various cousins living in the area, and her answers to Kai and Maric’s questions, Maud left the three Fereldans to settle into their new home.  They headed to the upper level with its four bedrooms and open sitting area overlooking another view towards the lake.  Well populated bookshelves lined one wall behind the comfortable armchairs and a telescope stood by the large glass doors which opened onto a small balcony.  A stair led down, from the balcony, to the stone paved patio below.  To Maric’s delight, he saw some of the titles were in the Common Tongue or Orlesian. 

Lys came to stand next to him and put an arm through his. 

“Will napping?”

“He is.  He seems to like his little room.”

“As do I,” Maric said, “although mine’s not so little.  Quite comfortable really, with the desk, easy chair, and bed.  Not to mention the closet and the private privy…no bathroom.”

“Gives everyone their own space, away from the gathering rooms downstairs.  The whole house is connected to the Net.”  She felt his shrug and chuckled.  “Don’t tell me you don’t use your CTab.”

Maric laughed.  “It’s an insidious little device.”

“What’s insidious?” Kai asked.  Maric held up the CTab. “Oh.  And useful.”  Kai put her arm through Lys’ free one.  “Great idea, this. I already feel more relaxed with all this space around us.”

“Almost at home,” Maric murmured.

“I hope so,” Lys said. 

By the next morning the Fereldans were ready to explore their new home.  At dinner the night before, Lys had explained that Hiever had been founded by the Cousland and Burke families, but had, over the years, become a haven for Travelers from all over Thedas.  In the village, they would meet Travelers who, like Olivia, had chosen to remain in Areth, but keep some of their Thedosian culture and skills.  They would also visit the Anthropological Institute Lys had described and where Maric might consult.  While the Institute had a museum, it also treated the town as an open-air display of Thedosian life.

On any day they might find Arethians, and off-worlders visiting Areth, wandering around Hiever to see the artisans working in their various guilds, get a sense of life in various Thedosian lands, and purchase items made in the village workshops.  Sometimes, she added, the village put on displays of skills from their respective countries. These festivals attracted even more visitors.  Explaining further, she watched Maric and Kai’s interest increase as she described sparring contests, archery demonstrations, song and story fests, hunting excursions, food halls, and other entertainments.

Leading them to a building next to the house, Lys pressed a button and the wide door opened to reveal another wheeled vehicle and a small GroundZIP.  As Lys opened a door to the rear seat of the wheeled vehicle and strapped Will into the baby seat, Kai ask who would drive them.    

“I’m driving.”

“You can drive this thing?”  Kai asked, her furrowed brow showing a certain lack of confidence in her friend.

“Get in.  Strap on the seat belts.  I wouldn’t risk Will, if I couldn’t drive, now would I?”

“She has a point,” Maric said.

Kai huffed but got in the back seat next to Will. 

“The weaving and spinning shed is in the other part of this building,” Lys said as she pressed a button and started the ground car.  Like the GroundZIPs, it hardly made a sound, but the instrumentation on the display lit up.  Lys grasped what she called the ‘steering wheel’, put her foot on the pedal closest to Maric, and the car moved forward out of the garage.

“You guide it?  As you would a horse?”  Maric asked, immediately regretting his analogy.

“At least we won’t fall off.”

Maric sniffed.  “Does that GroundZIP not work out here?”

“It does.  The guidance system is mostly satellite based, so the type of road makes no difference.  In fact, a Zip ride is smoother on these dirt roads and safer in winter, when there’s ice, but this van is larger and seats five or six, so it’s more convenient, particularly if we also need to pick up groceries and such. 

Lys had specific destinations in mind as she guided her friends through the village.  Maric, she took to the armory where smiths forged weapons, fletchers fletched arrows, carpenters and smiths built siege engines for display, and trained archers and warriors sparred.  While most Thedosians had only heard of the black powder weapons used by the Qunari, here they got to try weapons based on those captured from Qunari.

In the armory, Maric strode over to a rack holding greatswords and began hefting each in turn.  Will watched his grandfather from his stroller.  “This,” Maric explained to his grandson, “is an Orlesian design.  Effective but a bit too ornate, which adds weight.”  Grasping a simple, well-balanced blade, he began moving through his forms and soon gathered an admiring crowd.

“If you’re half that good in the sparring ring, you’d beat every warrior here,” a voice said, his accent betraying his Marcher origin.   

Completing his move, Maric stood.  _Not Starkhaven, but somewhere in the northern Marches.  Maybe Tantervale?_  “I haven’t sparred in some years.  I’m not sure how quick I’d be.  The muscles may remember, but they don’t always respond as promptly as they did when I was younger.”

The other man laughed.  “I know that feeling, friend.  Still, you could help train our young ones.  We haven’t had a warrior with your skill here in some time.”

“We’ve just arrived,” Maric said, “but, I could give it a try.  No promises.”

The other man held out his hand.  “Ernst the Armorer.  From Tantervale in the Marches.”  He squinted at Maric.  “Fereldan?”

“Good ear, Ernst.  Maric of Denerim.”

“Like the king?”

“Exactly.  It’s a common name in the South.”

“Well, why don’t you stay?” Frowning, Ernst looked at Kai and Lys.  “You two-”

“-look familiar?” Lys asked, a slight frown forming.  “As do you.”

“Minanter River 9:26.”

Startled, Kai stared at the man, recognition dawning.  “Lieutenant Ernst?”

Whispering to Maric, Lys explained that she and Kai had traveled down the Minanter on a Haris galley during her time as an apprentice merchant.

“I had no idea you two were Travelers,” Ernst replied.

Lys shrugged.  “What brought you here from Thedas?”

“Family.  Mine lived in Tantervale and couldn’t stomach the Chantry oversight any longer.  Didn’t bother me, being in Hrothgar’s Wrath, but I missed them.  So, I joined them here.”  He cocked his head.  “Can always use more battle maidens, ladies,” Ernst said.  “As I recall, you’re both good archers….”

“Maybe another time,” Lys said.  “I’m also a weaver and Kai spins. It’s good to see you again.  Turning to Maric, she said, “We’ll stop back in an hour or so and take you to the Institute to meet Aunt Liv.  She looked at Kai as she turned to go.  “Unless you want-”

“No, I’ll stay with you for now, but it’s a good place for Maric to spend time, as long as they don’t ask him to ride,” Kai grinned as the former king rolled his eyes.

Lys gave her a sidelong glance, but kept walking towards the textile guild where spinners, weavers, felters, tanners, and dyers created cloth and leather, which the seamstresses, hatmakers, and bootmakers turned into clothing, household linens, boots, shoes, hats, bags, belts, tapestries, and other products.  As they entered, Lys told Kai that the artisans here must create traditional products in traditional ways, but that those who wanted to develop new ideas based on Thedosian cultural traditions could do so in a separate workshop and store.  The Anthropology Institute collaborated with the artisans, using their skills and ideas to create innovative articles for use by Travelers, like the Fereldan gambesons.  Other items, whether useful or artistic, the makers sold in the Community shop.

Kai gravitated to the spinners, recognizing Fereldan style spindles and distaffs, but her eyes widened as she saw men and women also using spinning wheels, which were rare in Thedas.  _I want to learn that. She laughed.  No wonder they have that alternative shop.  I want to drop my spindle and learn the wheel and I_ _’ve only been here a few minutes._ Lys, she noticed, had begun a conversation with a woman weaving on a traditional four harness Fereldan loom.  The clacking, as the harnesses raised and lowered to provide a space through which the weaver would throw the shuttle with its thread unreeling to make another row in the weaving, reminded her of home.  Farther along, a man wove a what seemed like a rug on a larger, sturdier loom, with more harnesses than any she had seen in Ferelden.  _It must have been hard for Teyrn Eleanor and Arlessa Alyse to avoid introducing some of these improvements._  As if reading her mind, Lys pushed the stroller next to Kai and whispered that her Mum and Cousin Alyse had sometimes dropped hints to get people thinking about new methods, but never more than that.

Dealing with a fussy baby took Kai and Lys to a small bakery and coffee shop where Lys fed Will, while Kai had a coffee.  Maric, responding to a Ping from Lys on his CTab, joined them, commenting on the CTab’s convenience.  So much better than finding a messenger, had been his judgment.  Lys smiled at Maric’s excited commentary on the armory and the work done there.  She had not seen him this animated since before Rendon Howe imprisoned him.  His enthusiasm continued during their visit to the Institute, where Lys put Will down for a nap in the on-site crèche, before joining Kai and Maric’s tour of the facility with Olivia, where his enthusiasm from the morning carried over to discussions with the arms and armor experts, who welcomed his hands-on expertise.  Unlike Maric, Kai remained skeptical of researching the Dalish without Dalish cooperation, but Liv only smiled and said that she agreed.

“What are you and the Teyrna planning?”  Kai finally asked. 

“That is not my story to tell, Kailian.  You and Lys will have to wait for Ellie’s next visit,” Olivia said.  “For now, I’d like you to review the data, documents and artifacts we have from the Dalish and, well we’ve taken to calling them the Andrastian Elves, those who live in Alienages or freely in Thedosian states.  Despite our lack of knowledge, it’s a big job.  You’re an expert because you have lived it.”

“I don’t read Dalish or any other language, save the Common Tongue.”

“We’ll work that out, Kai.  All you should need is a Babbler.  It translates a document into your chosen language as it reads it.”

“Of course, it does,” Kai chuckled.  “Why am I surprised to be surprised?”

Olivia put her arm around Kai.  “You’ll be invaluable.  We need you.  Please look at what’s there and we can talk about what’s next for you and Lys when Ellie visits.”

**9:32 Dragon, Firstfall === Gwaren, Ferelden**

Eleanor, the Dowager Teyrna of Highever, stood at the newly established Gwaren portal waiting for her sister Olivia to come through.  Like most ancient keeps, Gwaren Keep had a network of tunnels leading out of the dungeons and into both the town and the forest just beyond the Keep’s wall.  They had used one of the tunnels leading west, into the forest, to build the portal chamber and an exit into the forest, hidden by a rock formation. 

“If your other world is as advanced as you say, nothing will go wrong,” Loghain stated.

“No world is that perfect, Loghain MacTir!”  His rumbling chuckle brought a smile to her face.  “You’re just as worried as I am.”

“I don’t know enough to be that worried,” Loghain replied.  “All I need to do is think about seeing Maric again and all other worries flee.”

Eleanor slipped her arm through his.  “You two have had serious disagreements before.  You will yell and argue and eventually work it out.  It may be a different friendship, but it will be a friendship none-the-less.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Ellie.”  He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him as the portal buzzed softly and Olivia walked out.

“So, you’ve done the deed,” Olivia said, seeing Loghain with his arm around Eleanor, something he would not have done before their marriage.  “Congratulations.”

Olivia hugged first Eleanor and then, to his surprise, Loghain.

“We may need this portal to escape my daughter’s wrath, once she discovers we’ve married without telling her,” Loghain grumbled, as Olivia stepped back.  “Not to mention that of Fergus, Leonas Bryland, and the rest of the Landsmeet.”

“Pfft.”  Eleanor waved a hand.  “I’ve spent the best part of the year, here with you, unchaperoned.  There’s been talk for months.  Our marriage will surprise no one.  Anora may have to act annoyed to satisfy the Chantry and the nobles who think you deserved a worse punishment, but secretly she’ll be happy for us.  As will Leonas.  The others, Fergus included, I’m not going to worry about.  We mature adults and deserve some happiness after the past few years of pain. 

“We’re lucky Revered Mother Gilda honored our wishes and agreed to secrecy.  We must keep the secret until Fergus and Anora finally gain the Landsmeet’s approval of their proposed marriage.  We don’t want the Chantry objecting because Anora’s widowed father married Fergus’ widowed mother.  Honestly, it’s not as if we’ll be having babies and if they don’t hurry up, they won’t either.”

“Eleanor-”

“Oh don’t, Loghain.  You want more grandchildren as much as I do.”  She sighed.  “And heirs for Highever and Gwaren.”

Olivia laughed, but grew serious and asked Eleanor if the Regents might exile the two of them. 

“Only to Gwaren,” Loghain muttered.  “Unless they see the successes we’ve had here.  Leonas will speak for us at least.”

“As I said, Anora will accept us,” Eleanor said, taking Loghain’s hand.  “She’ll be hurt that we left her out, but she will approve of the marriage; and she will understand not telling them.  She knows Fergus can’t lie to save his life.  Anora is convincing, but not where _you_ _’re_ concerned,” she added, squeezing Loghain’s hand.  “This way, no one knows, so no one can tell, and it won’t affect the Landsmeet decision about or the Chantry’s approval of Fergus and Anora’s marriage.”  Chuckling, Eleanor added, “Approval would be more assured if Anora were pregnant.”

Olivia snorted. 

“I always thought you so diplomatic,” Loghain said, shaking his head.  “but Anora pregnant would provide a convincing argument.”  He held up his hands.  “I know, not a thought you’d expect from a father, but neither of them is that young.  On your last visit to Denerim, didn’t Fergus tell you they plan to make the formal request at the Guardian Landsmeet?”

Eleanor smiled sweetly.  “In public, I am the image of a diplomat, as you know very well.  And yes, they will spend Satinalia, First Day and Wintersend talking to the nobles and the Grand Cleric, to ensure their votes and approval.  They will know the answer before they ask in Guardian, but a Wintersend wedding would have been nice.” 

“Even better if Lys and Maric could be there,” Loghain murmured squeezing Eleanor’s hand. 

Olivia saw the question on both of their faces when they turned to look at her.  “They’re settling in to the cottage in Hiever quite nicely.  All three seem happier now that they’re working and living outside the city.  Lys goes up to Revona every few weeks, but Maric and Kai don’t.  Maud’s daughter, Jenna, helps with Will.  He’s almost a year old now, pulling himself up, trying to stand, and crawling when that doesn’t quite work.”

“I can’t wait to see him again.  Are they expecting me?”

“They have the guest suite over the garage ready.”

“And no hint that Loghain is coming too?”

“None.”

“Good.”

“I’m still not sure about our strategy.” Loghain frowned.  “Liv, don’t you think preparing them would have been better?”

“No.  It won’t make your reunion with Maric any easier.  It would just give him time to feed his anger and resist talking with you.”

“He won’t be angry when we surprise him?”

“Of course, he will, but he won’t be prepared with arguments and-”

“-chatter?” Loghain said.

“He doesn’t chatter as much as he once did,” Eleanor said.

“Talks to himself sometimes,” Liv added, “but that might be the result of six years of solitary confinement.”

“Right.  We’re going to do this, eh?  I have no chance to change my mind?”  He looked at Eleanor’s raised eyebrows and Olivia’s amused smirk.  “I assume Lys will join you to make a united front?” Loghain muttered.  “You Burkes, or should it be Mac Eanraigs, stick together.”

Olivia laughed.  “Well, if Ellie wasn’t stubborn and persistent she wouldn’t have sailed the _Mistral_ to so many victories and become the Seawolf.”

Leaning over, he kissed Eleanor on the cheek, and growled, “Let’s get this done with.  I’m not looking forward to getting into that thing or spending time being oriented, but I need to do both if I’m to meet Maric again.”

Eleanor sighed.  “Sometimes I think you have no curiosity, Loghain.”

“Sometimes I would say you are right.”  When the portal door opened revealing an empty chamber where Olivia had been moments before, he stepped through.  _This better work._ Moments passed, and another door opened.  He stepped out to see Olivia smiling at him.  Eleanor followed, and Olivia led them to the rooms they would occupy for two nights while Loghain attended the Orientation sessions accompanied by Eleanor.  After a stay at the townhouse to allow them to shop and get acclimated, they would take the AirZIP to Hiever and Loghain’s reunion with Lys, Kai, and Maric.

“Do you think they’ll accept this marriage?”  Loghain asked again that night, as Eleanor spooned against him in the bed.

Eleanor rolled over on her back so that she could see her new husband’s face above her in the dim light.  He had bent his arm and rested his fist against his cheekbone.  “I feel like I’m dealing with a five-year-old, Loghain.  You ask that question every night.”

“Not every night.”

She reached up and rubbed his cheek.  “They will be happy for us.  They’ve left Ferelden, its politics, and its drama behind.  We’re just two people who decided our life would be better together than alone.  We share so many memories and none of them prevent this marriage.”  She smiled.  “Bryce would be amused, but happy for us.  I didn’t know Celia….”

He sniffed.  “Celia would appreciate all you’ve done for Gwaren.  Expanding the weaving and spinning house she established, adding the new dye house and tannery, convincing House Haris to establish an agent, and improving trade.”

“All work she began,” Eleanor said quietly, “without the contacts and resources we have now.  I wish we had met.  I think I would have enjoyed working with her.” 

“Acknowledging her work has made you popular with her family and, through them, the rest of the town.”  He kissed her temple.  “She would appreciate how you’ve taken care of me and revitalized the Keep.”  She felt his chest vibrate when he chuckled.  “I sneeze less often.”

“Your poor seneschal!  You had him shut the whole keep except your study, bedroom and the kitchen.  He had to make do with those cramped rooms off the kitchen to keep warm, while the rest of the Keep gathered dust.  Your people needed work after the Blight shut down trade to the rest of Ferelden and that includes providing work in your Keep.  And not just for soldiers. It’s true Gwaren is small and the Keep can share the town’s smith, miller, and other artisans, but you need your own cook, housekeeper, seneschal, maids, gardeners-.”

“-you’re right.”  He chuckled, murmuring to himself, “as usual.”  He continued despite Eleanor’s snort.  “I had too few people and I only knew how to treat them like soldiers.  No wonder none would stay.”  He laid his head back down.  “The staff seems proud to work there now, just as they did before Celia passed.  Everyone is better off since you arrived.  I’m going to be wealthier as the Arl than I ever was as Teyrn.”

“Which means you can reinvest it and do still more for your people.  You have a purpose as the Arl, just as you have one as a general.”

“Andraste’s Song, you’ll make a noble of me yet.  What else will you make me do?”

“I can think of a few immediate needs,” she whispered, running her fingers along his chest and across his stomach, until she reached the still-dark thatch between his thighs.

He groaned.  “Ah, a task I can complete with joy.”  He bent down and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland, whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. Appreciate all who favorited, followed, and gave kudos. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	14. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:32 Dragon, Firstfall in Ferelden=== Reunions in Areth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 14: Reunion**

**9:32 Dragon, Firstfall === Areth**

The ancient copper beech in the yard behind the townhouse had lost all its leaves since the last time she had seen the back garden.   Across the deck, her mother stood looking out over the back yard.  Wondering what could hold Eleanor’s attention for so long, Lys opened the French door and called out.

Whirling around, Eleanor almost shouted, “Lys.  I thought you would call.”

“Why?” Lys said.  “I have my own key.  I don’t need to let Aunt Liv know I’m coming.”

Eleanor had crossed the deck and gently pushed Lys back into the house, following behind and closing the door.

“Mum, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.  Well, something, which is why I asked you to meet me here.”

“Without Will.”  Lys’ eyes narrowed.  “Mum, did you bring someone with you?  Not Fergus!”

“Yes.  No!  Not Fergus.”  Eleanor took a deep breath.  “Lys, I’ve remarried.”

“You’ve….  Who?  Why did I not know you had met someone?”  She looked past her mother to the yard.  “Is he out there?”

After another deep breath, Eleanor, nodded.  “He was shooting.”

“That rules out Fergus in every way,” Lys said, watching her mother shake her head.  “Who is it, Mum?”

“Loghain Mac Tir.”

“Loghain?”  Lys’ stopped, at a loss for words.  Her mother had spent the last year in Gwaren, helping Loghain build up the economy of the Arling, after the Landsmeet had informed him that, while they would not banish him to his lands, they did not welcome him at Court. To placate the Landsmeet and keep the nobles from punishing Loghain for deeds after Ostagar, the Regents, in particular Anora and Fergus, had agreed.  The nobles, Anora had to remind her father, did not know about the blood magic.  Some believed he should have seen Howe’s plans, despite the forged documents the man had produced.

During her year in Gwaren, Eleanor had made the journey to Areth only once, traveling to Cumberland where Fiona joined her at the portal there.  On that visit, Eleanor had talked enthusiastically of the lovely wool from the local Gwaren sheep and the energy and skills of the local people, but had given no hint of a budding romance with the one-time Teyrn.  Apparently, her mother had her secrets.

Eleanor waited for Lys to gather her thoughts.

“You have always been friends,” Lys began, brow furrowing as she recalled times the two had been together, “but you never said it had become more.”  Her lips twitched.  “You’re not pregnant are you?”

Eleanor let out the breath she had been holding as Lys grinned.  “No, but the sex-”

“-don’t, Mum.  I happy for you, but I don’t need details.”  She grinned again.  “Fair comeback though.”  Instead of hugging her Mum, she crossed her arms and frowned.  “Was Olivia there?”

“No.”

“Just Fergus and Anora?”

“No!  No one knows in Ferelden.  Just Mother Gilda.  The two witnesses were strangers who didn’t know us.”

“Why?”

“Fergus and Anora plan to ask the Landsmeet to approve a marriage between them in Guardian.  We don’t want to give the Chantry a reason to oppose it.”

A voice came from behind her.  “And we don’t want them to have to lie, if asked if they knew about our marriage.”

Lys turned around, biting her lip to keep from smirking.  “And how do you like Areth, Arl Loghain?”

He sniffed.  “Confused.  Exhausted.  Intrigued.  I’ve never had to sit still, for so long, and watch other things move.  I don’t know, Melysande; much as I hate to admit it, it’s overwhelming…and exciting.  Everything moves so fast!  One thing, though, your mother took me to a book store and there were maps…not maps, but pictures of the land from the sky.”

“Did you buy one?”

“Have I ever passed up a good map?”  He stood, almost awkwardly, a few feet away from her, expecting a hug. 

Lys wanted to hug him, but could not get past her reluctance to touch and be touched.  She could hug Maric and Kai now, and cuddled Will with no hesitation, but with anyone else, she avoided any touching that went beyond a handshake.  Taking a deep breath, she took both of Loghain’s hands and said, “If you and Mum are happy then I’m happy for you.”  She leaned up and pecked his cheek, before dropping his hands and stepping back.  Eleanor had told him that the demonstrative girl he remembered had changed, but this reaction still surprised him.

“Olivia told me a portal had been set up in Gwaren, so she could pursue her studies of the elves in the Brecilian.  We could have easily attended.”

“It would be hard to explain your sudden appearance, Lys,” Eleanor said.  “Gwaren’s much smaller than Higheverport and fewer people pass through.  Strangers stand out.”

“Then why the portal?”

“For Olivia, but she and her helpers will arrive, first, by ship.  Once they’re there and known, they can go off on their expeditions and use the portal to travel back and forth with research.  Any time away can be explained by her expeditions in the region.”

“Ah, so we can’t visit you, but you can visit us.  Aunt Liv says the portal in Gwaren connects to the one at the Institute in Hiever.”  She looked at Loghain.  “You might like Hiever better than Revona City.”

“From what your mother and Olivia tell me, I’m sure I will; I just may not feel comfortable with all the company.”  Loghain turned away and strode over to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and took out a beer.  “This,” he said, holding up the bottle, “is one of my favorite things about Areth.”

Chuckling, Lys asked, “The beer’s quality or that it’s cold?”

“Both,” Loghain, said taking a long draught of the local brew.

Lys looked at Eleanor.  “I can bring Will here, Mum.  They don’t have to meet.”  She looked at Loghain, who had taken a seat on the couch.  “Would you prefer that?”

“You think he won’t want to see me?”

“I think he’ll be angry.  There will be things the two of you need to work out,” Lys said.  “I’ve told him what happened in Ferelden since Howe took him, but it’s what I knew, not your story.”  She looked at her mother.

“I’ve told Loghain what you and Maric told me about Howe’s Orphanage, your captivity, and what happened there and after.”

“You both will need to remember that you’re friends.  That you love each other,” Lys said.

Loghain huffed.   “What joined us was Ferelden.  Without that I’m not sure we have a…friendship, as you call it.”

Eleanor and Lys both looked at him in shock.  “Loghain Mac Tir, that’s simply not true and you know it,” Eleanor said. 

“We’ll see,” he said and drained the bottle.  “Changes of heart have been far too uncommon of late.”

Lys looked at her mother, eyebrows raised in question, but Eleanor shook her head.  “Let’s have a pleasant dinner.  We’ll talk about Ferelden later.”

Lys took that to mean that nothing had changed in Denerim and thought someone should shake her brother and everyone in the Landsmeet to bring them to their senses.

The next morning, Eleanor filled the silence on the AirZIP ride to Hiever with commentary on the ground passing below them.  Loghain only stared out the window, his hands gripping the arms of his seat.  Lys, sitting across the aisle from them, noticed the grip and smiled.  Neither Maric or Kai had gotten used to flying yet.  Of all the wonders of Areth, traveling through the air seemed the most amazing, but disconcerting, to the Fereldans.  The AirZIP body sat on a square frame with four propellers, one on each corner, to lift it and move it forward.  To add discomfort, it had no pilot, but flew a programmed path

“This looks better,” Loghain muttered, as they disembarked from the ZIP.  He looked over at the van, parked on the side of the road.   “What’s that?”

“It’s our ride to the house,” Lys said.  “It’s an old vehicle.”

“Do the wheels mean it stays on the ground?” Loghain asked, referring to the GroundZIPs which floated through the city streets on a cushion of air, only using its wheels on less developed countryside roads.

Lys laughed.  “They do, but so do GroundZIPS out here.  Now just get in.”  She looked at her mother.  “Do you want to drive or shall I?”  She chuckled when she heard Loghain stifle a comment and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Olivia ensured that only Will and Jenna, Maud’s daughter and our part-time nanny, are at the house right now.  Olivia took Maric and Kai to the Institute today.   You’ll have time to settle in before you meet them when they get home later this afternoon.” 

Loghain grunted in response as Eleanor climbed into the rear seat next to him and took his hand.  “Let him react to you,” she advised.  “He’s heard what happened from Lys and Kai, but he hasn’t heard it from you.”

“And I can hardly be upset with a man who spent six years in a cell having his blood drained every month.”

“No, you can’t, but he’s here now and safe.”

“It’s neutral ground,” Lys said from the front.  “Mum’s right.  Let Maric talk.”

Loghain snorted.  “When has anyone been able to stop him.”

**x==========x**

“-do I need to sneak upstairs to change before I meet these mystery guests?”  Maric held the door for Olivia and Kai, before following them into the house. 

“Hardly,” Olivia said, “but you might want a drink.”

“A drink?”

“I’ve already made drinks,” Lys said from the living room, where she put a bowl of nuts on the side table next to the bread, crackers, cheese, fruit and chocolates already set out.

“Chocolate.  Is Eleanor here?  You always get chocolate for Eleanor,” Maric said, settling into his favorite chair by the hearth, where a fire blazed behind the glass doors.  Maric raised his eyebrows when Lys brought a Laphroaig single malt.  “All this service makes me more suspicious.”

“You do always get that particular dark chocolate for your Mum,” Kai said.

“I hadn’t realized you two had become so observant.  Mum’s staying in the guest suite over the garage.  She’ll be in…” Lys looked toward the front door, “well, sounds like she’s coming now.”

Maric got up to hug the dowager teyrna, but froze when he saw who followed her into the room.

“What…how can you be here, MacTir?” he growled.  “Don’t tell me you’re a Traveler.”

Loghain shook his head.  “Not born as one, anyway.”

“Then how…?” Realization dawned and Maric looked at Eleanor, shocked.  “You didn’t!”

“I did, Maric. Loghain and I married last week.  I’m Arlessa of Gwaren now.”

Maric stared at her, shifted his gaze back to Loghain and stared at Eleanor again.  “How could you?  He abandoned his own daughter and my sons.  Abandoned Ferelden!  He enabled Howe’s rise to power.  Everything he did after Howe locked me in that cell caused others to die.  How could you?”  He turned on his heel and stomped up the stairway towards his room.

“Well, that went well,” Loghain said downing the scotch Lys handed him in one gulp.

“He’ll be back,” Lys said, refreshing Loghain’s empty glass.  Seeing Olivia and her mother looking towards the second floor, she shook her head.  “Don’t.  Let him think.  You wanted to make this a surprise, now let it play out.”

“She’s right,” Loghain said.  “Just make sure he doesn’t run off.”

Maric stopped as he opened the door to his room.  _Bastard. I never ran from a fight._   He slammed the door shut, strode towards the stairs and glared down at the three people looking up at him.

“I’m not running anywhere, Mac Tir.  Hiever is my _home_ , now.  I can’t keep you out, but I don’t have to welcome you.”  He descended to the first floor.

“Or Eleanor?”  Loghain said softly.

“Eleanor’s a grown woman who knows her own mind.  I disagree with her choice, but this is her home, even more than it’s mine.   But _you,_ I feel no obligation to welcome you, even if you are -”

“-I betrayed you.” Loghain spoke quietly, capturing Maric’s gaze as he interrupted.  “You. Cailan. Anora. Alistair. Bryce. Ferelden.”

Maric’s fist clenched at his sides, as firmly as his jaws.  He took several deep breaths before answering.  “You did exactly what I told you, what _I ORDERED YOU_ , never to do again.  You put the man – me - over the people, over the country, over Ferelden.  You abandoned my son and your own daughter when they needed you most.  Everything, _everything,_ save the Blight itself, that happened after Howe captured me grew out of that betrayal.”

Eleanor looked at her daughter, curious at the lack of surprise on Lys’ face, as Maric referred to a long-ago conversation which took place just after the defeat at West Hill.  She had expected Maric to rail against the blood magic and how Loghain’s prejudice against Orlais had enabled the blood mage to influence him.  Instead, Maric’s anger grew out of Loghain’s two-year odyssey in search of the missing king.

“Not what you expected?” her daughter whispered.

“Not at all.”

“I could have told you.  I…we’ve had this conversation with him.  I happen to agree with it.”  She watched Maric stride out the door and across the patio, taking the path to the lake.  “As, if I recall your conversation with him years ago in Antiva City, do you.”

“Lys is right, Eleanor.  You did encourage me to return home.  It seems so long ago now, but I should have known he would see my search as a betrayal,” Loghain said.  “Even I see it that way now.”  His mouth quirked up.  “You were right as usual.”

“Then tell him that,” Eleanor said.  “Talk with him.”

Loghain stood, taking a deep breath, and looked at Lys.  “Where will he go?”

“He took the path through that field to the lake,” Lys said.

Loghain followed Maric down to the lake where a dock stretched along the shoreline, formed a right angle, and extended into the water.  At the end of the dock, a sailboat rocked gently, its sail furled.

Maric stood, his hand clasped behind his back, on the portion of the dock which paralleled the shore, opposite a bench built into the landward side of the dock.  He did not look at Loghain when the other man arrived.   “Rowan never agreed with me - that I wasn’t important, but I thought _you_ understood.  I thought you would NEVER abandon Ferelden again.  All your talk, all your worries about Orlesian treachery, and who betrays Ferelden without a second thought?  They needed you, Loghain.”

“I thought Ferelden needed you, not an ill prepared….“  Loghain stopped, knowing that line of thought, questioning Cailan’s readiness to become king, would lead to a worse place.  “It’s true, Rendorn Guerrin believed in the Theirin line and died for his belief at West Hill.  Rowan needed to believe in that after he died.   Like her father, she believed that you - the Prince, the heir of Calenhad - you held the Rebellion together.”

“Rowan.”  His voice softened when he said her name and a smile Loghain could not see ghosted.  “I was either a younger brother or The Prince to Rowan.  She never saw _me_.  You always did.  Both good and bad.”  He turned to face Loghain, no hint of a smile remaining.  He pointed a finger at Loghain as he spoke, poking it towards Loghain each time he said you.  “I thought you understood after West Hill that I wasn’t the important one.  When you rescued me at Kinloch Hold, it wasn’t me you saved, you rescued Ferelden from an Orlesian plot.  When Rendon took me prisoner, when I disappeared, I ceased to matter.  I thought you, of all people, would let me go.  Cailan mattered.  Ferelden mattered.  They needed you.  And. **You**. Left.”

“I thought Bryce would be there.  He got along better with Cailan than I did and Fergus and Cailan were friends.  How could I know Eamon and Rendon would scheme and put Bryce up against Cailan?  I didn’t think it would matter if I left and I thought Ferelden still needed _you_.  I didn’t see a difference between rescuing you from the Orlesian plot at Kinloch Hold and finding you after you disappeared on the _Demelza_.  I….”  He sat on the bench running along the length of dock.  “I see it differently now…too late.  Not that I shouldn’t have searched at all, but that I stayed away too long.  The only thing I felt guilty about, at the time, was Alistair.  Even then, I knew I should have taken him with me.”

Maric stood at the dock’s edge, his glare disappearing as he looked surprised.  “Why didn’t you?”

“Cailan said no and I obeyed, just as I did when you refused to let him become my squire, or Teagan’s.  I should have smuggled him aboard that ship, but he liked the school, I thought he’d be safe there, and I didn’t want to anger Cailan or my daughter.  That decision looks worse now.  Had I taken him, I might have saved one of your sons.”

“Or consigned him to permanent exile, if Cailan had blamed him for leaving Dragon’s Peak without his leave?” Maric asked.

“He’d be alive, although I’m not sure Anora would welcome him either, now.”

“I don’t think I like what I’m hearing about Anora and Fergus.”

“I don’t always either, but they rule well, with Leonas’ help.  And Nathaniel’s, although he’s not a regent.  Anora’s fine.  She knows how to manage the Landsmeet, make them think she agrees with them, when in reality she doesn’t and is pushing them in a different direction.  Fergus…Fergus holds on to anger to tightly.  He blames me for my Orlesian prejudice enabling the blood mages to control me.  It’s just best that Eleanor and I stay away for now.”  He huffed and looked up at Maric.  “Honestly, I’m not sure who initiated the _suggestion_ I leave Denerim or who decided to remove me as General.  Leonas won’t say, which makes me think it was Fergus and perhaps a few nobles in Landsmeet.”

“And Anora?”

“Anora will fight battles she believes she can win.  She saved my life after I killed Howe.  Defending me further, particularly against Fergus…not a winning strategy.  She needs the Landsmeet’s support for their marriage and for rebuilding.  She’ll maneuver them into allowing us to return once they’re safely married.

“It’s best Lys is here.  While they mourn her and Alistair, I’m not sure they would welcome either back at Court.  Certainly Fergus wouldn’t.” Loghain sighed.  “We’re digressing.  We were discussing my shortcomings.”  He sat up.  “I’ve had a lot of time to regret my decisions.  Eleanor agreed with you, you know. She tried to convince me to turn back when we met in Antiva City a year after you disappeared.”

“She told you that Bryce had been sent from Court and that Eamon and Rendon Howe vied for influence.”  Maric’s voice, which had become almost friendly, hardened again.  “Once you knew Cailan had sent Bryce away, how could you leave Rendon Howe and Eamon as the main influences on Cailan?”

“I can be stubborn.”

Maric stared at his one-time friend.  Suddenly he started to laugh.  “Is that a result of soul searching?” he choked out.  “You can be stubborn.  That’s like me saying ‘I fall off horses’ or ‘I babble’.”

“Glad you find my admission so amusing.”  Loghain drawled, his mouth quirking up.

Pressing his lips together, his laughter spent, Maric turned away again, crossed his arms, and stared across the water.  Loghain leaned forward, head bowed, forearms resting on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs.  “I can’t undo what I’ve done, Maric.  I can try to do better.  That’s what I’m doing now, with Eleanor’s help.  Making Gwaren a better place.”

Maric turned.  “And I’m not, by running away to this world?”

Loghain sat up, raising his palms toward Maric.  “No, you’re mis-reading me.  If you stay in Ferelden, in Thedas, you’ll have some crazed Tevinter magister hunting you for your blood.  Honestly, I’m not sure Fergus and Anora would welcome you, if it puts Elin in danger.  Anora’s become a bit fearful about anyone usurping Elin’s throne.”  He shook his head as he smiled.  “Obsessive, even.”

“Like father, like daughter.” Maric muttered. 

Ignoring him, Loghain continued, “Before the Battle, Delilah, Lys, and Pippa helped connect her with the world outside the Palace.  Her current ladies - they do as she says.  Fergus doesn’t help.  He can’t get past his grief and anger over Howe’s treachery and what he believes is Lys’ disappearance.  Rendon ruined Ferelden for you, just as he ruined, tainted and destroyed everything he touched.”  He rubbed his hands through his hair.  “I’m still a rebel, Maric.  Fergus and Anora don’t know we married.”  His chuckle sounded more like a cough.  “Anora lies well, but Fergus doesn’t.  The Chantry would never believe they didn’t know.  Once they find out, after they marry, they’ll be angry.  We may have to join you here if they decide it’s treason.  Eleanor doesn’t think they will, but…I don’t know.  Fergus is in love with my daughter and would die for Queen Elin, which makes him a good regent, but he’s a hard man now.  He’ll be furious with his mother for marrying without his leave.  My daughter, despite saving my life at the Landsmeet after I killed Howe, still worries that the Chantry or the nobility will find out about the blood mages’ influencing me to ally with Howe.  The Landsmeet…most think I wasn’t punished enough for, what they believe, is willingly allying with Howe.  I’m not welcome in Denerim and as _my_ wife, Eleanor may not be either.”

“And despite all that, Melysande said they kept you as General after you executed Howe.  A good trick if you can manage it.  You committed murder – Maker knows the man deserved it, but did you deserve it less?”

Closing his eyes, Loghain sighed.  “I lived because they needed me, or thought they did, not because they forgave anything I did.  They needed me to end the Blight.  When that was over they kept me as General for six months, just to be sure Orlais wasn’t going to invade, and then asked me to retire.  Now, they have Fergus and Cauthrien to lead the armies.  Cauthrien writes occasionally, as does Leonas Bryland.  Teyrn Bryland, as he is now, even visited a few times, as my liege lord.  I’m just the Arl of Gwaren.”  He smiled.  “You know, I rather like it.  It’s smaller, manageable, and I have no other distractions.  It’s…I understand my father better.  How he cared for the people he led.  Eleanor’s helped me with that.”  His lips quirked again.  “She’s making a noble of me.”

“Your father was a noble.”  Maric said, turning to face Loghain again.  “I made him a knight, which you derided.”

Loghain groaned softly.  “I’m not going to argue that with you, Maric.  Yes, my father had nobility of character and you made him a knight.  Calling me a Teyrn did not make my character or actions noble, but that wasn’t my role was it?”

Maric sighed as Loghain repeated a well-worn disclaimer.  “It did make you a noble.  Nobles have many roles.  We been down this well-trod path too many times.”  He sat down next to Loghain, surprising him with his next question.  “You love Ellie?”

Loghain smiled, staring past Maric.  After a few moments he answered.  “I do.  I’m…we’re happy.  Content.  And worried about our children and grandchildren, but we do what we can, what is possible.”

The two leaned back against the rail, sitting in silence, arms crossed, and looked out across the lake as the sun set.  What might once have been a companionable silence felt fraught.  Loghain took several deep breaths and waited for Maric’s next accusation.  After a time Maric did ask another question.

“You said Fergus couldn’t get over Lys’ disappearance.  Not her death.”

After another deep breath, surprised by the new direction the conversation had taken, Loghain shook his head and stared across the lake as he spoke.  “He thinks Lys ran off after the battle.  He’s decided she deserted Highever after Howe attacked the castle, and that she deserted Denerim after Alistair died.  He needs someone to blame and he’s chosen his sister.  Eleanor insists they’d resolved any differences about Highever and, from what I saw, they had, but that was before she _disappeared_.  He’s convinced that his soldiers would have found her, her body, or, at least, some trace…her armor, weapons, jewelry, something.  When they didn’t, he decided that she ran.”  He looked at Maric.  “He hasn’t shown up here, has he?”

“No, but our being here is no secret.  Couldn’t he find out?”

Loghain shrugged.  “He doesn’t enjoy coming here, Eleanor says, but there’ll be a confrontation if he does.” 

On the balcony above the patio, Lys handed the binoculars to her mother.  “They’ve been sitting there for almost an hour.  I can barely see them now that it’s dark, but they look like they’re speaking calmly.”

“I’d say they’d been sharing companionable silence if they weren’t both so tense,” Eleanor said. “Arms crossed.  Shoulders hunched.  They’ll both need massages tonight.”

Lys eyes slid sideways to glance at her mother.  “Who would give Maric a massage?” 

“I know about Olivia and Maric, Lys.  Liv told us, so we wouldn’t have any more secrets.”

“Maric agreed?”

“For her to tell me, but Loghain and I are a package now.  Tell me, tell him.”

Lys looked at her mother, left eyebrow raised. 

“Well, when it concerns both of us.”

Lys kept staring.

“It’s different with Loghain.  We’re older, Gwaren is smaller and simpler than Highever, the world isn’t ending… and both of us are tired of games.”  She smiled.  “He accepts me as I am.  I’m an equal partner.”  She touched Lys’ cheek, when she saw the frown form.

“Your Papa…he accepted who I was during the Rebellion, the Seawolf sailing the _Mistral_ , but once we married and returned to Highever as Teyrn and Teyrna, his expectations changed.  He wanted a wife, not a privateer. I became the junior partner, not an equal one, and I accepted it, even enjoyed it.  I loved Bryce, Lys, and he loved me.  Those were wonderful years.  After all, I still had more freedom and influence than any other noble woman in Ferelden, but even I couldn’t stop your betrothal to Denis.”

“Papa didn’t want to anger Cailan and lose his position again.  Not to mention, that the betrothal saved our lives the night Howe attacked.  I’m not sure we would have made it to the Portal without Denis.”

“You dreaded that marriage and for good reason, but you’re right, he proved himself that night.”

Lys shrugged.  “We’ll never know how it would have turned out.  His…plans were not quite what I imagined.  He’s a better man than I thought.” She held her mother’s gaze.  “Just like Loghain.”

“Point taken,” Eleanor said and then put her hand on Lys’ forearm.  She felt her daughter suppress a flinch, but Lys did not pull away.  “Look.”

Maric trudged up the path from the lake with Loghain following him on the narrow path.  Neither spoke until they reached the house.  Maric went to the fridge and pulled out two beers and asked Loghain if he could still pull a bow.   

“A bow?”  Loghain took the beer, puzzled.  “Of course.”

“Good.  I’ve been consulting with Olivia’s Anthropology Institute.  Arms, armor-”

“-but not bows or horses.”

Maric did not smile.  “Not bows or horses.  Your opinion might interest them.  We’ll go in the morning.  Meet me out by the garage at eight.  I’m sure Eleanor can tell you what that means.  I’ll drive.” He nodded to the four women sitting in the living room, wished them good night and went upstairs.

Loghain’s eyes followed him.

“He can drive,” Kai said.  “Can’t fall off a car. He won’t crash it if he’s inside.”

Eleanor and Lys had exchanged glances, when Maric offered Loghain the beer, hoping the two had established a truce, but Maric’s request, although apparently benign, hadn’t been a friendly one, more an order from King to Teyrn.   Lys shrugged, thinking what harm could either come to at the armory.  _Bruise each other in a sparring match?_  Both men had the strength and reflexes developed by years of training.  Eleanor got up and whispered something to Loghain.  The two turned and said goodnight and left for the guest suite.  Lys looked at Kai and Olivia. 

“That made for an exciting evening.  Good thing we don’t have an armory here or it might have ended differently,” Lys said, trying to make light of Maric’s anger.  She frowned as she thought about the two of them at the Hiever Armory.  _A sparring match may be just the thing to help him work through his anger._

The next morning the four women, coffees in hand, watched Maric back the old electric car out of the garage and stop to let Loghain climb in the front seat.  Maric only grunted when Loghain said good morning.  

“Bets on how fast Maric drives?” Kai asked.

“I just hope they get there in one piece,” Olivia replied, as Eleanor looked from one to the other.

“Don’t worry, Mum, Maric’s a good driver, but he will probably show off a bit.”

“At least he won’t chatter the whole trip,” Eleanor said.  “If that grunt’s any evidence, it seems he’s still angry with Loghain.”  She looked at Olivia for confirmation, but her sister only shrugged.

“Jenna will be here soon,” Lys said.  “We can go check up on them once she arrives.  I think I’ll leave Will here today.”

Later, shouting and cheers greeted the women as they walked into the armory.  They exchanged glances and hurried to the sparring ring, where a crowd had gathered.

“Maker’s Breath,” Eleanor hissed, as they made their way to the rail around the sparring grounds, and Maric and he husband became visible through the crowd.  “They’re like two children.”

“Children don’t spar with real blades,” Lys said softly. 

Olivia hand covered her mouth and Eleanor whispered a frantic denial.  Kai put a hand on Lys’ shoulder as they all stared at the two men fighting in the ring.

Maric and Loghain circled each other, Maric with his great sword and Loghain with longsword and round shield.  Maric made a remark Lys could not hear. 

”You have the advantage, Maric.  You’re used to that blade,” Loghain replied, in a tone that carried clearly.

Maric made a noise that passed for laugh and stepped forward, swinging the blade in a horizontal arc that Loghain barely managed to block with his shield.  Too late, Loghain tried to take advantage of Maric’s open left side, but his thrust encountered only air when Maric turned and stepped back.  His arm still throbbing from the force of Maric’s blow on his shield, Loghain advanced, feinting with his blade, before bashing the shield against Maric’s right forearm and gauntleted hand.  Maric retreated, his sword raised before him.

Blood trickled down one side of Loghain’s face from an early pommel hit to his forehead, but he could not wipe it away or protect his bare head from further attacks.   A few moments into the fight, as he realized this was a fight, not a sparring match, he had tossed away the ill-fitting helmet when it slipped forward.  Loghain hefted the well-balanced longsword, knowing it would serve him well, but regretted his choice of shield.  The small, round leather and wood buckler would serve for a sparring match, but for a fight he would have chosen a larger metal battle shield.  _Too late for regrets.  I_ _’ll use this until it shatters.  Luckily, I chose the right sword._ He had expected to spar, but after he donned the borrowed mail, the armorer returned the sword to him, not blunted, but newly sharpened.  Maric had set no rules for this fight.  For all he knew his friend intended it to be to the death.  _That may be his wish, but it is not mine.  So, I better win and keep us both alive.  This time Andraste and I agree.  Mercy and forgiveness for us both._

He stepped back, out of range of Maric’s longer reach.  Maric still moved with a swiftness that surprised Loghain.  _I_ _’ve been practicing with my guard, but apparently so has Maric here in Areth.  He’s only lost a step or two._  Loghain danced to the side, away from the sweep of Maric’s blade, and rushed forward to strike at his one-time friend’s side, bending a few links in the chain and scoring a strong blow to Maric’s ribs.  Maric fell back to catch his breath and they began to circle again.  _He_ _’s lost a few steps, but so have I.  No advantage there._   _How do we not kill each other with these damn blades?_   On his next blows he tried to turn his blade just before impact, causing bruising but not drawing blood.  Images of past sparring matches flowed through Loghain’s head as he searched his memory for Maric’s weaknesses.  Maric had an advantage in reach and height, but Loghain had always been more agile, at least until he had begun to wear the Orlesian plate.  Now that he wore chain again, that advantage had returned, assisted by the stretching exercises Eleanor had introduced.  _He may spar here, but he doesn_ _’t ride out every day.  He’s breathing harder than me.  I need to keep him fighting until he tires and slows._ Loghain thought better of taunting, afraid he would give his tactics away.  He fought defensively, turning his blade and hoping his shield would hold against the battering by Maric’s great sword.  Maric did not hold back.  His great blade swung down from above, delivering a glancing blow to Loghain’s left shoulder.

“You’re quicker in that chain mail.  I should have given you plate,” Maric growled.

“I don’t wear plate anymore,” Loghain said. 

“Then it would have tired you out more quickly,” Maric said, ignoring Loghain’s comment.  He changed his grip and swung for Loghain’s torso, missing as Loghain jumped back, pulling his stomach away from the greatsword’s trajectory.

“Next time I’ll wear plate.”

Maric stepped back, his sword pointing skyward.  “You think there’ll be a next time?”

Loghain continued to dance around his opponent, pulling back to avoid Maric’s thrusts and slices, blocking only when necessary to preserve his weakening shield, and suddenly attacking with a blow to the shoulder or torso when Maric left him a rare opening.  As he had hoped, Maric began breathing harder.  As he tired, he raised the greatsword above his head less often. Loghain feigned fatigue, slowing his movements, watching Maric’s eyes.  He saw them narrow ever so slightly, before Maric moved forward, raising his sword high for a downward blow.  As he did Loghain rolled beneath the blade and swept his own sword against Maric’s calves, kicking as Maric tried to regain his balance.  Maric fell hard, his right arm, extended to break the fall, buckling under his weight.  Loghain stood, but not before Maric rolled away and got to his own feet. 

“I didn’t expect that move,” Maric said, gripping his sword in both hands, but Loghain saw him wince as he moved his right elbow.

“I’m younger than you, old man,” Loghain replied.  “And I don’t just spar with play soldiers.  I fight beside my guard and ride out on patrol.”

Maric smiled.  “I’m not an Orlesian chevalier you can bait with gibes, Loghain.  Taunt all you like.”

Sighing, Loghain feinted with his sword.  Maric, expecting another shield bash, raised his own blade to block and Loghain brought his sword’s flat side down on Maric’s right wrist.  Gauntleted or not, the strength of the blow bruised Maric’s wrist.  His grip loosened on the greatsword as Loghain did bash his weakened shield against Maric’s damaged elbow.  The former king dropped his sword.  Loghain stepped on the blade.

“You need to work on strengthening your arms and shoulders, Maric.”

“Clearly,” Maric replied. 

“Six years in a cell, even if you did forms every day, would weaken anyone.”  Loghain pointed at the sword on the ground.  “Are we done here, or do we continue?”

Maric had pulled his gauntlet off and was massaging his wrist as Loghain spoke.  “Twenty years of wearing plate would strengthen _your_ arms,” he grumbled.

“I told you, I don’t wear plate any longer.  I stopped after the Blight.  Archers can’t wear plate.  I’ve taken up the bow again, so I wear chain.”  He gave a rough laugh.  “Curious how few people outside of Gwaren recognize me in chain.  I could walk through Denerim and no one would know me.”  He rubbed his now ungauntleted hand through his short hair.  “Good haircut helps too.”

At that Maric chuckled and shook his head.  “I’m still angry with you, but this took the edge off.  We should talk.”

“I’m still angry with myself.  They weren’t my sons, but I loved them too.”

Maric breathed in.  “I don’t fault you for Ostagar, Loghain.  I wish you could have influenced Cailan not to play the hero, but you did what I asked and saved the army to fight another day.  You secured the borders.  Nor can I fault you for the what the blood magic made you do.  You obsessed about Orlais and that gave the blood mages their opening, but that obsession also protected Ferelden.”

“Until it didn’t.”

“I know a little about Tevinter mages,” Maric said, walking towards the gate that led to the locker room.  He stopped at the fence and leaned against the rail, still massaging his wrist.  “That’s how they captured me.  Somehow, two of Howe’s Tevinters sailed as part of the _Demelza_ _’s_ crew.  They cast sleep spells on the watch one night and let Howe’s men on board to capture me.  One sailor came on deck as they boarded and rang the alarm, but by then it was too late.  We fought, but they overwhelmed us with magic.  They took me.  The next thing I remember is the cell. 

“Lys tells me Howe refitted the Demelza, painted her black, and sent her north.  She says you were chasing it when she saw you in Antiva City.”

“I was.  Never found her.  Howe’s plans worked, until they didn’t.”  Loghain stared past Maric, clearly seeing some other time and place.  Maric said nothing.  Finally, Loghain spoke.  “He’s one of the few men I enjoyed killing.”  Loghain turned towards the gate.  “Let’s clean up.  I thought I saw what Eleanor calls showers in the privy chamber.  Better than the cold beer - like a water fall from a hot spring.”

“It’s called a locker room and has toilets not privies, Loghain, and yes, there are showers.”  Maric smiled an unforced smile.  “And they are amazing, aren’t they?”

The two walked into the armory without acknowledging the women standing on the other side of the sparring ground.

“Seriously,” Lys said.  “That’s it.  They’re not even going to speak with us.”

Eleanor patted her arm, purposely ignoring the small flinch.  “They need more time to get used to this truce.”

“Truce?” Olivia asked.

“They have more to work out, but they’ll manage now.  They needed to remind each other of what they’ve shared.  That’s more important than the mistakes they’ve both made.”

“You think Maric’s captivity is his mistake!”  Lys’ voice rose.

“No, sweetling, of course not.  No one opposed his trip to Wycombe, but there were other mistakes.  Maric wasn’t the best father.”

“Right.  Cailan and Alistair wouldn’t have needed so much _saving_ if Maric had paid them more attention, would they?”

“If Maric had allowed it, Loghain would have taken care of them, particularly Alistair.  Loghain, Bryce, and even Teagan, kept suggesting alternatives to Redcliffe and Dragon’s Peak.  It’s done, Lys.  They need to forgive each other and learn to live together now.  We can help by letting them do it their way.”

Lys looked back towards the sparring ring.  “Even if they kill each other?”

“I admit, today worried me, but if they survived this, they’ll survive any other disagreements.  Maric does not hold grudges.  This won’t happen again.”  She chuckled softly.  “They may spar again, but next time they’ll use blunted weapons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland, whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. Appreciate all who favorited, followed, and gave kudos. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


	15. Tired of Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9:23 Dragon, August === Kirkwall  
> Alistair has returned from the Deep Roads and begun to settle into his life in Kirkwall. Returning one afternoon to his rooms at the Hanged Man he finds a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**A SONG IN THE STILLNESS**

**Chapter 15: Tired of Killing**

**9:32 Dragon, Harvestmere=== Kirkwall**

“I should freeze you where you stand to pay you back for taking off without a word.”

“Liam!”  Alistair dropped his pack.  “I did leave word.  And how did you get in here?  Have you created a lock picking spell?”  Understanding dawned. “Ah, my friend Varric.”

Smirking, Liam did not confirm Alistair’s assumption.  “Right - barely more than a word.  A scribbled note.  Cryptic and short on details.  Morrigan was right there.  You could have spoken with her.  She wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“What you - or Morrigan - don’t know you can’t tell.”

“You think we’d give you up to Weisshaupt?  Or Orlais?”

Alistair sighed.  “Not knowingly or willingly.  Of course not.  I…it’s not what I would do today, but then….  And I have written to you through Varric since I got here.”

“I still worried.  Morrigan said you were…well she didn’t use the word, but despondent.”

Alistair snorted.  “Yeah, that’s a good word, hence the leaving with no notice, but it worked.  I’ve found a place of sorts here, even if too many people seem to figure out who I am.  Varric, Hawke, Fenris, Isabela…Anders knew right away, of course, but I’ve managed to avoid Jowan and his passenger.”  He looked at Liam.  “How in the Maker’s name did you let that happen!”

“Let it happen!” Liam almost shouted.

Wincing, Alistair held up his hands, palm outward.  “Sorry, it’s just such a…bad thing.”

The two stood looking at each other.

“Like swooping?” Liam finally broke the silence. 

“Will I never live that down?” Alistair grumbled.  He frowned at Liam.  “So, are we angry at each other?” 

Liam took a few steps forward and Alistair did the same.  They extended hands, but Liam grabbed Alistair’s wrist and pulled him forward, wrapping his other arm around his friend’s shoulder saying, “not angry, but we’ve missed you and we worried.”

“Missed you too, but Soldier’s Peak felt more like a prison than a refuge.”  He spread his arms to encompass his flat.  “This is a refuge.”

Liam surveyed the rooms again, with their carefully tended and stored weapons, the scribes stand stocked with quills, inks, charcoal, brushes, and pots of color, and the cozy alcove with bed, desk, and chairs by the small hearth.  “I can see that,” Liam conceded.  “It must be freeing to be yourself with your friends, but can they be trusted?”

“The three I journeyed to the Deep Roads with?  Yes.  Then there’s Isabela.”

“The sea captain from the Pearl?”

“A Captain without a ship and some mysterious problems, but she voluntarily offered to keep my secret and has for months.”  He rubbed his jaw, covered by an untrimmed beard.  “She and Zev go back a ways.  That may help.”

“Good luck with her,” Liam said, frowning, recalling the way she had teased Alistair and annoyed Mel at the Pearl.

“What about Jowan and Justice?” Alistair asked.  “I’d worry a lot more if he, or is it they, recognized me?  Anything you can do?”

Liam sniffed.  “I keep telling myself that Wynne managed her spirit, but this isn’t the same.  He’s not mature and reasonable and Justice isn’t in the Fade.  I’d like to separate them, but even Morrigan knows of no way to do that - short of killing Jowan and ensuring Justice doesn’t find someone else to…inhabit.”  He saw Alistair raise his eyebrows.  “It’s not possession, not strictly.  Jowan’s not turned into a demon.”

“Morrigan recommends death despite that?”  Alistair thought he knew the answer and wasn’t sure he disagreed. 

Liam nodded. “Yes.”

Alistair must have looked shocked, even though he expected the answer.  Shaking his head, he spoke hesitantly.  “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t say I disagree.  Must be the templar training - let no demon-possessed mage live.  If Jowan’s not possessed, it’s too similar for my taste, if Anders’ descriptions have any value.”  He held up his hands.  “I know spirits can be good.  Demons and spirits are opposite sides of a coin - one good, one bad.”  His lip quirked up on one side.  “I am surprised to agree with Morrigan.”

“She respects magic.  She’s not fond of those who abuse or misuse its power.  She’s even less fond of demons and blood mages.”  Liam sighed, his shoulders slumping.  “I’m not either, but I won’t pass judgment on him yet, at least not extreme solutions.  I’ve not seen him use or had reports of him using blood magic, but we know he’s capable of doing so.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard her lecture on blood magic as a tool which most blood mages misuse, as Jowan’s already did when he fled the Circle.”  Shaking his head, Alistair motioned towards the chairs by the cold hearth in his bedroom/study.  “Sit. It’s a huge burden for Anders - dealing with Jowan-Justice alone.”

“I know.  That’s why I’m here and will visit more often.”

“Liam, I know they were both your students in the Ferelden Circle.  Maybe you should have Taina come next time.  Get another opinion.”

“Have you been corresponding with Morrigan?”

Alistair laughed.  “Not another thing we agree on?”

“She respects Taina, too.  It might be a good idea.  I’ll let you know so you can be away or something…unless?”

“Appreciate that.  Taina doesn’t need the burden of my secrets.”  He stood.  “I’ll have Norah bring up some stew and bread.”  He soon returned with a pitcher of ale, pouring portions into two pottery cups as he promised the stew would follow. 

“So, not angry with me for leaving?”

“I was never angry with you for leaving, just sorry it didn’t work out at the Peak and annoyed you didn’t confide in me.  You could have waited until I arrived for Kieran’s birth.”  He saw Alistair roll his eyes and shrugged.  “Might have been bad timing for that discussion?”

Alistair snorted.  “You think so? Welcome to the Peak Liam, please ignore your pregnant lover and talk to me?  Morrigan _would_ have turned me into a toad.”

Chuckling, Liam tried to explain.  “As I said, Morrigan told me how disturbed she felt after her conversation with you.  You’re my friend Alistair.  I know you’re used to dealing with issues on your own, but you have friends now.”

“I do know that Liam, which is why I’ve communicated with you through Varric, but I had to work it out for myself.  I needed to find a place to settle, where I could leave Alistair behind, be Alun, and make a life.  This works for now.”  He changed the subject, asking, “Is the Peak working well?”

“We miss the training you could provide, but Sigrun’s turned into a good sergeant.  She works well with the troops, with Levi and his family, and Morrigan likes her.”

Alistair chuckled.  “That’s an accomplishment.  I thought she might become a leader.  The Legion train their recruits well.  Maybe you should recruit more dwarves from Dustown.”

“Yeah.  Taina’s amazing as my Warden Constable.”

“Daveth doesn’t mind her position?”

Laughing, Liam said, “He’s happy as our scout in Denerim.  He uses his old contacts, thumbs his nose at the guard, and works well with Anora’s spymaster, Erlina.  He’s even accepted by the elves, with Erlina vouching for him, and being known as Kai’s friend.  Taina divides her time between the Vigil, where we’re still cleaning up after the Architect and his talking ‘spawn, and Denerim.  The Regents respect and trust her, which is why I can travel like this.  I divide my time between Denerim and the Peak.”

Alistair grinned.  “And how is fatherhood?”

Liam gave him the widest smile he had ever seen from his friend.  “I recommend it.”  Then, realizing how that might be taken, his smile disappeared, and he began to apologize.

“Liam, stop.  I am happy for you both.  Don’t ever apologize for loving your son.  _Not ever_.”

“Right.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be quite so emphatic, but….” He sighed.  “Just be there for him, love him…something I missed.  Anders said you named him Kieran, that he has black hair and blue eyes, and a loud, lusty - that’s Ander’s word - cry.”

Liam laughed.  “Not a bad description.  Morrigan would add that he’s always hungry.  She finally agreed to a wet nurse, to help feed him, so she could continue her work with Avernus.”

“Any more progress on the Joining potion?  Or a cure?”

“No cure, but our Joining survival rate has already improved with the new potion.  We’ve only had one death, and she already had Blight sickness.  Sadly, she contracted it from that ‘friendly’ talking darkspawn, the Messenger, who warned us about the attack on The Vigil.  We let him go after his assistance in Amaranthine, but in his effort to help people, he spread Blight sickness.  We had to kill him.”

“You regret it?”

“He had good intentions, but he had to feed and live somewhere.   It couldn’t be anywhere near humans or other darkspawn.  It was either end him or put him in a cell at the Peak and only let wardens near him.  We explained, and he asked to die.”

“Liam.  You make it sound like things are improving, but….”  A knock on the door interrupted Alistair, who got up to answer.  He returned with two bowls of stew.  “Not the best you’ve ever eaten, but it beats cooking it yourself.”

“Certainly, beats _you_ cooking it, yourself.”  He laughed when Alistair stuck his tongue out at him.  _I should remember how young he is.  Only twenty-two._ “You seem to have joined a good group here.”

“I have.”  Alistair shoveled another overflowing spoonful into his mouth.

“But…?”

“I’m tired of killing people, Liam.  Here we fight bandits, mercenaries, Tal Vashoth, Qunari, even ‘spawn….  Everyone’s fighting everyone else and the refugees…you should carry back the message that they’re living in squalor in Darktown, if you haven’t already.  I’m sure Anders has told you.”

Liam nodded.  “The Regents know, but don’t have the money to bring them back.”

“Don’t they need workers and farmers?”

“Yeah, but they have their own refugees in Denerim, the Bannorn, Redcliffe, South Reach, everywhere except Highever, really.  Arl Loghain and Teyrn Eleanor are re-settling the refugees they found in Gwaren, but there are so many more throughout the south of Ferelden.  With so much devastated land around Ostagar and north past Lothering, everyone who fled, and survived must go elsewhere. They’ll worry about the refugees here and throughout the Marches once the local ones are settled.”  He ate more of the stew and took a swig of ale to wash it down.

“Huh?” Alistair put a finger to his lips and said nothing for a bit.  Finally, he looked at Liam.  “Let me talk to Anders.  Maybe we can help.  There’s more coin than we need for the clinic.”

“I’ll take any proposal to the Regents,” Liam said.  He nodded toward the rectangle drawn on the opposite wall around an area showing signs of damage to the concrete.  “What’s that?”

“Putting in a door to the next room.  It’s where Varric put his new printing press.”  Seeing Liam’s puzzled look, Alistair chuckled.  “I’ve been working with him on learning how to use it.  He wants to publish his own books.”

“So, he _is_ the writer.”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“No, just knew him as a merchant.”  He laughed.  “His books are popular.”

“Morrigan?” Alistair sounded skeptical.

“No, but Anora and Delilah love him.” 

“ _Anora_?” 

He chuckled.  “  Yep.  I think Sigrun reads them too.  I suspect she gets them from Pippa, but, don’t change the subject, why the door?”

“We may want to carry some broadsheets out secretly.  With that door, we can do it through my rooms.  It’s why I’m doing the work and not some hireling.”

Liam sighed.  “Let me guess.  The Mage Collective, or whatever they call it here.“  Seeing Alistair’s questioning look, he added, “As long as Anders is careful, I have no objections.  As for that, maybe I can help.  I can’t burn concrete, but I might be able to crack it, which would make your work easier.  Even better if Anders and I work together and burn both sides.”

“That would be incredible.”

As Liam got up to depart, Alistair asked him to wait and went to rummage through his desk.  He handed Liam a cylindrical wooden item with string hanging from a cleft around its center and a carved wooden rattle.  “For Kieran.  The rattle for now, it’s elven made.  Sylvan wood so it will survive teething I’m told.”

“And this?” Liam asked holding up the two thick disks attached to each other in the center by a slender spindle of wood, which separated the discs.  A string looped around the spindle in the channel it formed between the discs.

“It’s dwarven.  Got mine in Orzammar and learned to use it there.  Had Varric find that one for Kieran.  The dwarves call it a _farmuk_.”  He took it back and made the toy drop and retract along the string.  This basic move is not hard.  I’ll teach you more when you come back.”

“Thank you,” Liam said.  “These are marvelous.”  He tried to sling the _farmuk_ , but it just dropped.  Alistair laughed. 

“Takes practice?”  Liam asked.

“It does, but once you get it you won’t forget.”

The next day, the two mages aimed their fiercest sustained streams of fire at the center line of the door in the room next to Alistair’s.  At first, the fire only blackened the wall, but, after numerous blasts of heat, cracks appeared.  After refueling with lyrium potions, they repeated the scorching attack, and the cracks widened.  Both men rested and ate a meal before continuing to scorch the wall.  Once they finished, Alistair took a huge hammer to the damage and satisfied everyone when huge chucks fell out of the wall.  Anders and Liam moved on to work on the wall in Alistair’s room, dislodging more chunks until they broke through.  Varric had already stored timber framing in the room with the press, so the three men made quick work of shoring up the new entrance, with its still rough edges. 

Sitting in his rooms with more stew and ale, Alistair pointed to the doorway and said, “I can make the opening pretty, but I could never have accomplished this so quickly.  Thank you.”

“This will let you print documents and broadsheets for the underground and get them to us unobserved,” Anders said.  “Of course, I’d help.  After losing Karl, I will do anything to aid the mages.  Making Harrowed mages Tranquil, abusing them, and killing anyone a templar _suspects_ of demon possession…I won’t stand by, warden or not.”

“I won’t stop you, Anders,” Liam said, rubbing his temple.  “Greagoir would never have made a Harrowed mage Tranquil for anything save murder.  First Enchanter Irving would never have allowed it.”

“First Enchanter Orsino can speak out, but Meredith doesn’t listen,” Anders said.  “Never thought I’d say this, but the Ferelden Circle looks like a haven for mages compared to the Gallows.”

“As I keep saying, do it carefully, Anders,” Liam said.  “I don’t want to find _you_ in the Gallows.  Sounds like being a Warden might not matter.  Any escapees, send them as recruits to the Peak, where we can decide if they’re warden material.  If not, we can work something out with Highever.”  He looked from Anders to Alistair.  “What you shouldn’t do is flood Highever with mages carrying false papers.  It will destroy the Highever Accord and all the mages will suffer.  I’ll approach Greagoir, maybe through Wynne, and see if he can help.  Provide a refuge for escaped mages.”  He held up his hands.  “Anders, it’s still a Circle, I know, but it’s not _this_ Circle.  Many mages would settle contentedly at Kinloch Hold, instead of running and hiding.”

Anders grunted, as Alistair squeezed his arm.  “He makes sense Anders.”

“Says the former templar.”

Alistair, lips pursed, cocked his head at Anders, but refused to take the bait. 

Anders eyes narrowed, but he only shrugged.  “I’ll tell our people that we can only send good mages to Ferelden, no blood mages or demon possessed ones.  Oh, wait, we don’t set those free.”

“At least not knowingly,” Liam said softly.

“We check for cuts and depend on the other mages to tell us what they know,” Anders said.  “If we find evidence of blood magic they don’t get out, or, we set them loose to fend for themselves.  We’d never send them to Ferelden.”  He closed his eyes.  “I know, not the best solution, but it’s the one Jowan accepts.”

“Jowan or Justice?”

“Is there a difference?  I don’t think there is anymore.”  He looked at Liam and changed the subject.  “So how goes wardening in Ferelden?”

Liam refilled his cup with ale and stared into the fire Alistair had lit, as he took a few deep draughts.   Deciding he had made his points clear to Anders, he accepted the new topic. “It’s good on the surface.  My wardens do their job.  It’s just so hard to stay out of the world outside our compound.  It’s hard not to care what happens to Ferelden after we gave so much to save it.”

“Politics?”

“Yeah, but it’s all woven together.  Politics, trade, rebuilding, housing, feeding refugees…where do you draw the line?”

“I don’t know.  I guess I dodged an arrow when I, gave up being Warden-Commander and went into hiding.  Do you have to attend Court?”

“No, but I meet with the Regents, Arl Cauthrien, Arl Nathaniel and any others who think they have darkspawn infestations.  I attend every Landsmeet.  I worry.”

”About?”

“Teyrn Bryland has taken to visiting me more often than I’d like.  He’s worried about Fergus.”

“What’s wrong with Fergus?  Zevran said he didn’t take Mel’s death well.”

“He’s convinced she’s alive and that, with you believed dead, she simply took off and left him to deal with being Regent and Teyrn.  I think he’s using her as a focus for all the anger he feels after losing his wife, his son, and his father when he wasn’t there.  He blames Mel for letting them all die while she survived.”

“I thought he got over that when we are all in Highever,” Alistair said.  “They got on during our time in Denerim before the Battle.”

“Apparently not, at least not since he’s decided that she ran away, shirking responsibilities again.”

A harsh laugh from Alistair followed that remark.  “Mistress Duty-Calls shirk anything?  That’s ridiculous,” he snapped.

“He’s annoyed with his mother too.  She’s been off in Gwaren helping Loghain rebuild, leaving him in Denerim as Regent and Philippa in Higheverport as Arlessa and Fergus’ regent for the teynir.”

“And Anora?”

“She’s paranoid about threats to the Queen, but otherwise fine.  Her maid, Erlina, has a whole network of spies who report back to her.”

“That’s not new.  Erlina’s been her spymaster…spymistress?…for years.  Zevran helped her re-establish the network before he left Ferelden.”

“Huh.  I didn’t know that, but honestly, I think Fergus influences her, even though she tries to remain positive.  He suspects intrigue at every turn.  She’s constrained him at times, particularly when he believed Nathaniel and Delilah Howe should be watched, but they both encourage Loghain to remain in Gwaren.  Anora does it because so many nobles still feel Loghain’s punishment should have been more harsh.  Fergus seems to agree with the nobles, even though he knows about Howe’s blood mages.”  He saw Alistair and Anders frown.  “Remember, the Landsmeet doesn’t know about the blood magic, only the forged documents Howe produced, so they place a lot of blame on Loghain.   As long as he’s in Gwaren, it seems Teyrna Eleanor will be too.”

“I would have expected the Teyrna to help in Highever.”

Chuckling, Liam said, “So did Fergus, but she divides her time between Gwaren and Denerim.”  Growing more serious, he continued.  “I think the Teyrna finds Highever and Castle Cousland hold too many memories.  With Teyrna Eleanor away, Fergus leaves running Highever to Arlessa Philippa and his Seneschal.”  He smiled again.  “Then there are the rumors about the pair in Gwaren, which bother Fergus and Anora.  Just what are the Dowager Teyrna and Arl MacTir up to?”

“Up to?  Neither of them would betray Loghain’s own granddaughter.” Alistair snorted.

Liam laughed.  “Not those kind of rumors, Alistair.  The whose sharing whose bed sort of rumors.”

“Teyrna Eleanor and Loghain?” Alistair stopped.  “Hmmm.  That’s not as far-fetched as it sounds.  They always got along.  I could see them together.”

“Well, you’re not the only one, but most don’t speak of it so benignly, not to mention that would make Anora and Fergus step siblings.”

“Ouch.  That would hurt their chances of marrying.  Would the Chantry really…?”  He shook his head.  “What am I saying, of course the Chantry would deny a dispensation if they ever decide to marry.  You’re full of rumors.”

“Aren’t I though,” Liam said.  “Curse of spending time in the capital.  And listening to Taina.  She and Daveth love rumors.”

“Daveth I can see, but Taina, a gossip.”  Alistair grinned.  “This has been enlightening.”

“Any more gossip to share?”  Anders asked.  “It’s almost like being back at Kinloch Hold.  Have Anora and Fergus done the deed?  Is she pregnant?  That will convince the Landsmeet to approve the wedding.  Fergus needs an heir.  Let’s see, what else?  Oh…have you seen Cullen?”

“What!”

“He’s Knight-Captain in the Gallows,” Anders said.

“Cullen Rutherford?  Cullen from Kinloch Hold?”

“The same,” Alistair said, joining in.  “I’ve managed to avoid him so far, not being a mage, although I am careful not to smite in front of any templars.”

Liam started laughing.  “That’s a good one too.   Can’t say I’ve tried to visit the Gallows, given its reputation.  Anders, have you seen him?”

Alistair laughed and answered before Anders could.  “Briefly, and made sure he flashed his warden badges, armor and everything else he had…well maybe not everything.”

“Definitely not everything,” Anders snapped.  “Not that you were there, but that’s how I know about our templar friend.”

Liam snorted and shook his head.  “You’ve been corrupted by Zevran and Anders, Alistair.  You’re not even the palest shade of pink.”

“Guess the Archdemon cured me of blushing, too.” Smirking, Alistair continued.  “Anders, you didn’t tell Liam about Cullen before this?”

“No.”  Liam frowned at the mage, “but you knew I planned on avoiding the Gallows, so I’ll over look it.”

“How long will you stay?”  Alistair asked.

“Already been here four days, Alistair.  I expected Anders back from this Expedition weeks ago.”

“Yeah, we got held up with injuries.”

“So, Anders said.  Deepstalkers.  Nasty creatures.  The woman, Hawke, she’s recovered?”

“Yeah.  Good thing we had you along, Anders.”

“I’m off tomorrow on the morning tide,” Liam said.  “Back to Highever and on to the Peak.”  Liam stood.  “Shall we join your friend Varric downstairs?  He invited us to a game of Diamondback.”

Alistair laughed.  “I should reveal to him that you taught me how to play.  I usually beat him. Let’s go.”  He clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder and two embraced again.  “It’s been good to see you.”

**9:32 Dragon, Harvestmere === Kirkwall**

“Let’s go,” Jowan said, irritated at Anders deliberate consideration of which potions he might need.  “We can’t let these mages wait so near the tunnel’s entrance.  The templars may be distracted by the Satinalia festivities, but some remain on duty.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap?” Ander’s asked again.  “Who is the helpful templar?”

“Someone who does not agree with Knight-Commander Meredith’s policies,” Jowan snapped and led the way to the hidden entrance to the tunnel joining Darktown to the Gallows.

“I just find it unlikely - you trusting a templar.”  He stared at the back of Jowan’s head as they trekked through some muck and puddles in the tunnel.  “Or is it Justice trusting the templar?”  He watched Jowan’s shoulders tense.

“There’s little difference between me and Justice,” Jowan said through clenched teeth. 

“That’s not comforting.  Old Wynne had a pet spirit of Faith and managed it, but they did not become one and Wynne, as annoying as she could be, had more talent and experience than you, Jowan.”

“I am not in the Fade,” Justice intoned.  “You have described this other mage before.  Her spirit resided in the Fade and provided power from there.  Jowan and I can only be together, as one, here in this world.”

Anders knew Jowan’s eyes had turned a piercing blue when his voice deepened and Justice took over.  He even seemed to loom larger and glow when Justice came to the forefront.  He could see icy blue streaks on Jowan’s neck, beneath his long, lank hair.  It frightened him.  Jowan, at his best, had never been the most stable of mages or the most self-aware.  More lazy than untalented, he refused to practice and complained about his instructors when his spells failed.  He blamed his shortcomings on others, and he manipulated his friends to get what he wanted, until that no longer worked.  Reina had been his only remaining friend and she had paid dearly for that when he had used blood magic to take her along as he escaped the Ferelden Circle.  Liam knew Jowan’s fear of Tranquility had been valid, but not because he lacked talent.  He learned, from Liam as he prepared to join Jowan in Kirkwall, that Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving suspected him of using blood magic and feared he would eventually harm others. After destroying his phylactery, he had proven them right, although no one had seen him use blood magic since.  Now a spirit had joined with him and between the two, Anders feared a new being would emerge.  A spirit…or a demon…a demon of Vengeance in the guise of a mage, who might turn to blood magic again.

“You two seem inseparable.”

“We are,” Justice declared.  “Even the Warden-Commander had no suggestions for dividing us and returning me to the Fade.”

“I don’t want Justice sent back to the Fade,” Jowan snapped, as Justice subsided, and the glow faded.  “Liam thinks he’s so brilliant, but he can’t make either of us do what we chose not to.” 

“If you’ve combined with Justice, then you need a new name,” Anders said.  Waving his hands, in imitation of a Chantry mother completing a ritual, he intoned, “I name thee, Jowstice.”

Jowan stopped and turned around.  “Jowstice, Warden Mage Jowstice.  I like that, Anders.”  He smirked at Anders’ surprised expression.  “Not your intent?  Too bad.  Now let’s hurry.  We have three mages to free and Sir Trask can only keep them safe for a short time.”

**9:32 Dragon, Haring === Kirkwall**

“Impressive, Hawke.  Is it worth it - reclaiming the estate?”

“I don’t care that much, Varric, you know that, but Mother - it begins, in a small way, to make up for all she’s lost.”

“You’ll have to get used to servants, entertaining-” Varric jumped back to avoid the punch Rory aimed at his arm.  “Now Hawke.”

“You sound Mother.  I suppose you have a list of suitors too?”

Varric chuckled.  “No, I don’t deal in suitors, but,” He rubbed his chin and eyeballed Hawke, “for a price-” He ducked to avoid another slap. Looking over at the hearth, where Carver’s mabari lay warming himself, he changed the subject.  “The mabari seems to have settled in, but he’s still quiet.”

“Yeah, poor Dog.  He misses Carver as much as we do.  Maybe more.”

“Who named him Dog?”

“Carver.”

“Your brother must have been quite a character.”

Rory’s smile did not reach her eyes.  “He was.  Annoying, but still…my brother.  And now he’s dead, Bethany’s stuck in the Gallows, and Mother blames me.  So far Mother’s been allowed to visit Bethie each month, but…well, we’ll see won’t we, how much influence this wealth purchases.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Visiting.  It’s a game, a dance…she calls on Lady Nose-in-the-Air, then Lady Nose returns the call and tells her friends about it, mother is accepted by Lady Nose’s friends, and they invite mother to their estates, and the game goes on.”

“It really works that way?  I mean, I’ve heard, but I thought humans might be more sensible than dwarves.”

“Dwarves do the same?”

“In Orzammar, the nobles do, so all the topside dwarves do, particularly Merchant’s Guild wives.”

“It is only wives, isn’t it?”

“Not many women warriors or fighters in either place, but, somehow, I think the wives spar in their own way.”

“But fighting, wearing armor, and sparring all provide me an excuse for not accompanying Mother.  Sorry, I need to practice with my shiny, sharp swords so I couldn’t dress up.  Armor’s definitely not acceptable attire.”

“And they use sharp words, not pointy blades,” Varric laughed.  “At least we’re off on fewer deadly missions since we got back.”

“Bianca’s not complaining?”

Varric grinned, “She’s not and she thanks you for letting her rest safely in your bedroom while she’s here.”

“Best I could do, since Mother objects to carrying weapons around the house.”  She looked around the estate’s entry hall.  Sandal played at some enchanting, while Bodahn supervised the staff, a task at which he excelled.  Even Leandra approved of the staff’s work.  “This all seems…over the top for the two of us, but I must admit, I enjoy being served tasty food each night.  Will you stay for dinner?”

“Tasty?  Hmmm.  That would be a change.”  He looked down at his tunic, wide open from the chest up.  “Am I presentable enough for Leandra?”

“She likes the chest hair, Varric.  She just won’t admit it.”  Rory laughed.  “If we’re lucky she’ll have some matrons, a few husbands, and their undoubtedly unacceptable sons join us.”

Varric snorted.  “Matchmaking.  What is it about matchmaking that intrigues so many mothers?”

“Not just mothers Varric, some fathers have approached Mother with betrothal offers, with an eye to my fortune.”

**x==========x**

Bodahn announced each guest upon their arrival and pointed them toward the receiving room next to the entry hall.  Widows, married couples, and, as Rory had predicted, eligible sons mingled and drank wine and ale.

“No good whiskey, Hawke?” Varric muttered, standing on the balcony overlooking the dozen or so guests in the room below.

“Not with this crowd.  You’ll have to wait until they leave.”

“Even if I stay up here?” Varric whined.

As she said no, quite emphatically, she saw a single man enter the room below with her mother on his arm.

“Is that-”

“-Cullen,” Hawke confirmed.  “And not here to deliver bad news, if my mother’s expression is any indication.”  Looking smug, Leandra let Cullen lead her to the center of the room near the hearth.  She searched the faces around her and then looked up and frowned.

“You’re about to be summoned,” Varric said

“What’s Cullen doing here?”

“You do know templars can marry.  I seem to recall Aveline being married to one?”

“No.  Mother can’t be-”

“-he’s a Knight-Captain, Hawke.  As eligible as anyone else here.”

Sighing, Rory grabbed Varric’s sleeve and pulled him toward the stairs.

Cullen’s eyes widened slightly as she approached.  Her, short dark tousled hair did not lend itself to the elaborate braided coiffures worn by her mother’s friends, but her simple, moss green undertunic and deep gold surcoat, belted loosely at her slim waist enhanced a trim figure and brought out the green of her eyes.  He bowed as she approached and greeted her, nodding to Varric who had hung back.

“Cullen, you met my daughter, Rory, under difficult conditions,” Leandra said.  “I’m sure you’ll find each other better company tonight.”  She turned back to Rory.  “I met Cullen as I left the Gallows the other day and invited him to this dinner.  He should meet Kirkwall’s better class in his position as Knight-Commander Meredith’s second.”  She smiled at Cullen.  “Would you see to the introductions, dear?”

Varric had to turn away to hide his laughter, knowing how Hawke must be struggling to contain her reaction.

“Of course, Mother, but I don’t know everyone here.”

Leandra frowned.  “I went over the guest list with you.”

“Names not faces, Mother.”

“Come, Cullen, I will introduce you.  And _you_ converse with the guests you do know, Rory.”

Varric came to stand beside her as Leandra walked away, still clinging to Cullen’s arm.  “I’ll bet he’s no happier than you, but he’s used to placating Meredith, so your Mother’s no challenge, except he has to settle for ale and you don’t.” He handed her a glass filled with Starkhaven’s best whiskey.

“Where did you - did Bodahn-”

“-now, now Hawke.  I never reveal my sources.”

Snorting, Hawke sipped the nectar, feeling it burn as it went down and warm her belly.  “It does fill the need, Varric.”

Before they finished sipping, Bodahn entered to announce dinner.  Entering the hall, where two long tables paralleled each other, at right angles to the head table.  Hawke apologized to Varric, saying she would have to join her mother along with whomever Leandra had selected as her escort for the rest of the night.  Making her way forward, she saw Cullen joining her mother at the high table.  Behind her she heard Varric laugh.

“Serah Hawke,” Cullen said, standing at the chair between her own and her mothers.  On Leandra’s other side a couple whose name Rory had forgotten joined her mother.  “It seems I’m your partner for the meal.”

“So, it does.”  She looked up at Cullen and smiled, adding softly,  “I could have done worse.” Seeing her mother nod, she sat down.

“So, I’m the lesser of the evils here?”  Cullen said, lips pressing together.

Rory’s lip quirked up on one side.  “Mother doesn’t know we’ve met on other occasions.  She has no idea I _may_ find your company tolerable.”

He recalled the fight against the possessed templar recruit and the later rescue of the other endangered templar recruit, Keran, as he took his seat.  She had spoken on behalf of the boy, a templar, despite her obvious support of more relaxed treatment of mages.  He frowned.  _What am I thinking, more relaxed?  She grew up with apostates for a father and a sister.  I can_ _’t deny her father trained Bethany well, but then_ he _was Circle trained.  Her preference would likely be mage self-governance, seeing how well her father succeeded._ Sighing he realized Leandra also did not know he regularly met with Hawke, to give her news of Bethany, at the Hanged Man in Varric’s flat, or at the another, somewhat run down, Hightown estate near the Chantry, belonging to some other friend of Hawke’s.  So far, the news had always been good.  He clung to a, probably false, hope that it would remain that way.  Then again, while Bethany was not overtly political, she had a way about her that smoothed ruffled feathers and calmed tempers of mages and templars alike.  His lips quirked as he wondered, again, if she used an undetectable spell to make herself fade into the background after she quieted an argument or to fend off unwanted attention.  Perhaps something her father had devised. 

As for this dinner, Meredith had approved his attendance.  Such social occasions, Meredith informed him when he demurred, placated the Kirkwall nobility and he, despite his dislike of such things, presented himself and the templar order better than any other officer.  _And than Meredith, herself, let_ _’s be honest.  She would find it impossible to remain civil._ He glanced at his dinner partner.  _Perhaps it would be less of a chore than usual this evening._ He caught Rory glancing back at him and smiled.

“Well, at least your frown’s gone.  Are you trying to decide on acceptable and unacceptable topics for conversation?” Rory asked. 

“Ask about Bethany, if you like,” he said quietly.  I’ll answer, as I always do.”

“No, we’ve spoken recently, and Mother’s just seen her.  Unless you know something new-” A slight furrow appeared on her brow as she spoke.

“No.  No excitement of any kind these last few days.  A nice respite.”

“Well then, you know about our background.  What about you?  You’re Ferelden too.  Where’s your home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland, whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. Appreciate all who favorited, followed, and gave kudos. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine.  
> I hope you continue to read and enjoy.


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